Golden Rules
by chikinita09
Summary: Amanda Watson, a 19-year-old legal secretary, breaks all her own set of unwritten rules to make a straight woman, her boss, Hermione Greanger, fall in love with her. Era: Young Adult, FEMMEslash, HERMIONE/OC; subtle Dramione/Drastoria
1. Don't Fancy Your Boss

**A/N: Hello! :) This is my first femmeslash fiction featuring my very first OC. Her name is Amanda Watson, a 19-year-old legal secretary. She's working for Hermione Granger, who is a 25-year-old divorce solicitor at the Magical Matrimonial Office in London, with whom Amanda is infatuated. :) I'll try to keep the rest as canon as possible. The Dramione/Drastoria pairing is only the subplot.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Potter universe and the characters in it. I own the OC and all characters related to her.**

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Rule Number 1: Don't Fancy Your Boss**

"Amanda, would you kindly Floo this address? It's the local County Court in Boston; Lincolnshire. Ask for Mr. Gregory Goyle's solicitor, Mr. Blaise Zabini, and make an appointment for the earliest time possible. He doesn't respond to my Owls and he needs to be there at the meeting," her boss instructed rather casually, flipping through the memorandum pages in her hands.

After a short pause, she handed a small note with the address attached to the petition folder over to Amanda. "I've been trying to Floo him but his Floo network's been inaccessible. Kindly pass him the message that the Petitioner, Mrs. Parkinson-Goyle is, for the fifth time, accusing her husband of adultery. Tell Mr. Zabini that Mrs. Parkinson-Goyle has finally provided a name and an address of the Co-respondent, Miss Stacy Wolff. The Court will serve the petition to the Respondent as soon as possible."

Amanda stared at her boss's moving lips but failed to focus on the words being said. One could say that this was a somewhat unsatisfactory attribute to being a legal secretary since needing to be attentive to details was mandatory. She heard that authoritative yet kind voice, but the exact meaning of the words wasn't comprehended.

Amanda had to be careful because she had promised herself that she must concentrate more on the instructions than on that gentle voice itself.

Amanda's eyes wandered from those cherry lips to the glossy chestnut-eyes, instantly captured by the depth of them. The pile of folders was placed carefully on Amanda's desk, and she glanced down quickly, only to look up and see her boss smiling absently on a folder she was holding.

Responding with a dutiful nod and taking the note from the folder, Amanda was momentarily unable to think clearly. She had heard something resembling the name 'Casey' or 'Stancy' and to call someone up somewhere for adultery. Oh dear Merlin, what kind of secretary was she if she couldn't as much as follow such simple instruction?

She blinked, not wanting to give her confusion away, though her boss didn't seem to have noticed anything seeing how she merely turned on her heel without looking up from the folder in her hand. Amanda watched her boss retreating figure, mesmerised by the perfectly sculpted body, which disappeared into the nearby office.

"Yes, o-okay," Amanda muttered under her breath, once she heard the office door fall shut. She grinned widely from ear to ear and released a muffled sigh, hoping nobody in the office had noticed her momentary trance. She continued filing her fingernails, staring dreamily at her perfectly manicured nails.

It was thanks to her former school friend, Lucy Burton, whose father owned the company that Amanda got employed as a legal secretary at the Magical Matrimonial Regulations Office there in London. And when she was introduced to the woman Amanda was assigned to, Amanda knew she had to prove that she really was qualified for this position.

She felt like a fifteen-year-old teenager again, fawning over the teacher or a hot Quidditch player. Except this time, it was different. She was infatuated with another woman.

Putting away her nail file, Amanda retrieved her pocket mirror and examined her reflection. She looked pretty, thus, she must have looked pretty when her boss had seen and spoken to her. Fortunately, she had just come from the washroom, after retouching her make-up, applying new blush and adding another coat of thick black mascara. She regarded a lock of strawberry-blonde hair that was curling ever so slightly in her face and ran her left palm over the top of her head, attempting to flatten the small strands that were sticking out in all directions.

"I should buy a new potion conditioner," she mused, talking to her reflection as she brushed her tongue along her bleach-white teeth. "My hair's getting a bit dry…"

Although Amanda was striving to perform a good job every day, she was also taking care of her physical appearance to look perfect, and not just for the clients, but especially for the object of her fantasy—her female boss. She was constantly on a diet and would only buy sugar-free, fat-free and calorie-free drinks. She performed precisely twenty sit-ups every night and attended aerobics classes twice a week. Though this ritual seemed painfully Muggle-like, beauty potions only brought back bad memories of her school days and spells had a nasty habit of going awry…

But then again, Amanda wondered, why on earth did she try so hard to impress her boss? All her efforts seemed rather futile; it wasn't like the older woman would ever go out on a date with her—her own secretary. She'd hardly ever looked at her or acknowledged her existence in the office.

If this delicate information ever came to light that she was attracted to her boss, would she get fired? Maybe not, unless her behaviour was deemed to amount to sexual harassment and Amanda would never let it go that far. She couldn't imagine working for anyone else, not now when her feelings for the other woman had crossed the edge of a simple infatuation. One could say that she even cared about her boss—she cared _a big deal_ about her. Maybe…she even liked her…a lot.

It was in Amanda's seventh year when she had realised she never liked blokes that way—tall, broad-shouldered, Quidditch-playing, sweaty, smelly blokes. It was an awkward feeling to have a hard, muscular body pressed against her, crushing the air out of her lungs, the strange musky odour of the male body that lay upon her flooding her nose, while making love to her in an animalistic way. At any rate, this was what she had experienced with her long-term boyfriend, Bradley, who was horrible in bed.

Amanda had dated several blokes only to figure out shortly before graduation that she had always been attracted to the same sex. It was a real shock—though a pleasurable one—when Amanda felt the first time in her teenage life the soft lips of another girl on hers.

It had been unexpected; both girls even had boyfriends, one knowing the other was straight, and the other just realising she was not. It was the mere result of a drink game, under the influence of alcohol, of teasing between two friends and daring the other to do something 'silly' before leaving Hogwarts…

*.*.*.*

"I could never do that!" Amanda exclaimed, clasping her hands to her mouth to stifle a giggle. "I will most certainly _not_ leave the common room, wearing nothin' but my bra-brassiere and trousers. What if somebody sees me?" she squeaked, her face feeling hot.

"Wha? Brochure?" Lucy Burton mumbled incoherently. "Nonsense, no one's gonna see you, Mandy," she reassured her. Eyes droopy, in one hand holding a bottle of firewhisky, she added in a slur, "It's almost four in the morning, and we're the only people still awake."

"I told you not to call me Mandy!" Amanda drawled, glaring at her giggling friend and then throwing the couch pillow at her. Amanda disliked her nickname, but Lucy loved annoying her that way. "And no, I can't do it," she whined, playing with the neck of her firewhisky bottle.

She felt tipsy already, but thinking about it, it was their last night at Hogwarts. The very next day both girls would be boarding the Hogwarts Express for the last time, and parting ways. Lucy would move to Australia with her parents and Amanda would stay in England. She had planned to move out of her parents' house once she'd earn her own money. And maybe, if she was ready, she would move in together with her boyfriend, Bradley.

"You only have to walk out, that's all," Lucy said, placing a hand on her friend's thigh. "After that, I'll do whatever you wanna. You can even make me walk out naked, eh?" Lucy threw her head in her neck and laughed out loudly, as if she had just made a silly joke.

Taking a deep, she noticed one empty firewhisky bottle beside Lucy, another clutched in her hand. Her friend had drunk the same amount of liquor, but it seemed as though she was more inebriated than Amanda.

"All right, it's a deal," Amanda said in defeat, taking a last big gulp from her bottle to instantly lose all remaining inhibition. She pulled her grey jumper vest over her head and started unbuttoning her white uniform blouse.

Lucy grinned at her as she followed Amanda outside the common room, but not without disturbing the Fat Lady from her sleep. A chilly gust of wind whipped against Amanda's half-nude body, making goose bumps on her skin crawl. The two friends wobbled outside, giggling and hushing each other to be quiet, without further paying attention to the Fat Lady's complaints.

"Okay, I d-did it," Amanda stuttered, feeling her teeth clipper in the coldness. "Now lets g-g-go back inside."

"No," Lucy said, sniggering in amusement, "you have to dance first. And make it sexy."

Amanda's jaw would have dropped if it wasn't clattering fiercely from the cold. "A-a-a-are you c-c-crazy? I'm getting a c-c-cold here. Let's get inside n-n-now."

"Just a little sexy dance, c'mon, Mandy," Lucy pleaded, making big puppy eyes. "I like the way you dance. Shake that booty." She giggled again, holding her stomach.

"I-I-I told you not to call me Mandy!" Amanda snapped angrily.

"Please?" Lucy insisted. "I will never call you Mandy if you dance now. For me?" She grinned, batting her magically extended eyelashes.

"Jeez, then c-c-call me Mandy, for all I care, but I-I-I definitely not d-d-dance in this cold!" Amanda rubbed her arms and kept on staring down the staircase, looking back to the Fat Lady, afraid it might swing aside and somebody seeing her in her bra. Why did she have to strip her blouse off if all that Lucy wanted was to see her dance?

"Okay, fine, you party pooper. You don't have to dance but you'll take a little walk with me," Lucy suggested, sighing in surrender. "I'll get your clothes. Wait here a minute. You wait here! Don't come in!" Before she could respond to that rather suspicious demand, Lucy had already disappeared back inside the common room.

For a moment she thought that Lucy might play a prank on her. What if she locked her out? Or hid her blouse and woke up the sleeping students on the floor, only to humiliate Amanda in front of everybody? Could Lucy be so cruel? Maybe not. Luckily a short moment later, Lucy came wobbling outside, throwing her black long hair over her shoulder, while having two robes draped over her arm.

"I couldn't find your blouse, just put this on." She threw the robe lazily at Amanda and dragged her away from their common room towards a deserted dim-lit corner down the hallway.

"But I threw my blouse on the couch," Amanda cried as she tried throwing on her robe over her shoulders. She had quite difficulties doing this, seeing how Lucy wouldn't let go of her arm, still pulling her.

"Now, it's your turn, right, Amanda?" Lucy enunciated her name, looking over her shoulder before they came to a halt.

"We should get back inside. I don't wanna get caught; it's past curfew," Amanda said worriedly. She hated breaking the school rules. She had not been made a prefect in their fifth year because of her poor grades, maybe, but she had always abided by the rules.

Lucy hushed her as she put a finger on Amanda's lips. "Relax. It's our last night, Amanda-girl. Is this okay?"

"Huh?" Amanda responded ineloquently, noticing their sudden proximity.

Whatever it was Lucy had asked permission for, she didn't give Amanda a chance to protest, because she just did what she wanted.

It took Amanda by surprise when she realised that her friend had pressed her soft lips against hers. Her gasp caused Lucy to pull away slightly, looking at her through heavy-lidded eyes—a look Amanda had never seen on her friend before—at least not directed at _her_.

One part of Amanda knew she had to pull away in order to prevent what both might regret the next day—because this was awkward. The other told her that, 'Who cares? It feels nice.' Maybe this was what she had been looking for; after all, she had never been really happy in her past relationships and the experiences she had gained from them, more or less. She loved Bradley, but let's face it, he didn't know how to kiss her like this.

"Lucy…" Amanda said softly between the kisses, pulling away when she felt her friend's hand disappearing underneath her robe, making her jump when she felt Lucy's cold fingers on her warm skin. Amanda was the tallest of the pair, so Lucy had to pull Amanda down slightly to even their heights.

Lucy leaned in again, their lips barely touching. She was teasing Amanda's lips with her own, smiling against it. In Amanda's past relationships no bloke had ever caused such a tingling sensation in her stomach with just a simple touch of the lips. Only when the wave of blissful ecstasy had spread through her veins, she realised that she liked it. Not because it was Lucy, not because she had feelings for her friend, for she knew she had none, but because of the sensation of kissing another girl.

They looked at each other again, before finally, Amanda returned a smile, tilting her head to give permission to go on.

"What's the dare, Amanda?" Lucy said breathily, their faces only inches away from each other.

Alcohol must taken control over Amanda's brain in that moment, when Amanda felt her arms wrapping around the shorter girl, only to pull her closer. "I dare you to kiss me again."

The following kiss was not even remotely chaste—it was passionate. They kissed each other like they'd kiss their boyfriends. There were tender hands stroking Amanda's body—so that's why Lucy had made her strip off her blouse, only to feel her skin directly—no animalistic groping paws of some horny bloke. It felt awkward at first to feel other breasts that were not her own, but Amanda started to like it, unlike that flat and hard chest that squeezed her lungs. These were sweet scents of fruity shampoo and Vanilla-smelling skin Amanda inhaled deeply, not the sour apocrine perspiration. There was no need to pretend she was enjoying it, no need to fake moans when feeling the kisses hot on her neck and mouth.

At this moment, everything was perfect.

They kissed for the rest of the night, pressed against a wall in a secluded corner, on the last night before they left each other the next morning.

That was also the very last time she had heard of Lucy Burton.

"Are you feeling all right, Amanda?"

Amanda was startled from her daydream when she looked up at her boss, who she had not noticed was in front of her again, scribbling something on a piece of parchment on Amanda's desk. Bushy brown hair pulled back to a neat bun, while little cute curls escaped in all directions.

"Your face is a bit red," she pointed out after a fleeting glance at her. "Could you Owl this message to Ginny Weasley and tell her that I'll meet her tomorrow for dinner about eight o'clock?"

"How lucky she is," Amanda mumbled, staring at the outstretched letter in her boss's slender hand, as though hypnotised.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, oh, I said, yes, ma'am," Amanda corrected herself quickly, taking the letter. She brushed very subtly her hand over her boss's creamy ones, fighting back the urge to grin like a schoolgirl in love.

"Thank you, Amanda," she said, turning around and leaving once again. "You can knock off work now. There's nothing else to do anymore. And take a rest, you work too hard."

For a moment Amanda thought that her boss was perhaps being sarcastic, but then she noticed the sincere tone when she saw that friendly smile.

Amanda always worked overtime just to leave the building with her boss together—and with 'together' she meant, her boss walked ahead of her while Amanda followed behind. She would always find anything to do to stay longer, just to earn some praise for her 'hard work'. Of course sometimes she seemed to be overly caring more for her own beauty, but if it came down to it, she could eventually work on files for days without sleep.

Just to see a simple smile from _her_ was enough to make her happy.

Amanda straightened her blouse and brushed the creases out of her black skirt, checked her face a last time in her mirror then unclasped the clip from her hair so that her curls cascaded down her shoulders before heading to her boss' office.

Maybe she shouldn't be too obvious. People were looking. Her boss might have already suspected something, hence, the avoidance of direct eye-contact. If only Amanda could stop blushing in front of her whenever she gave that patented killer smile that made Amanda's knees go weak, then everything would be easier.

Knocking once against the wooden door, she called, "Miss Granger, I'll be leaving now. If you need anything else—"

There was this noise of high heels on the wooden floor that moved towards the door, in the next moment it opened, revealing Miss Granger's flawless face Amanda had grown to admire over the past six months. Maybe it was just her who perceived this woman as being perfect and beautiful, who knows? Maybe Miss Granger was only ordinary-looking to others. She didn't know her boss very well; to her she was a highly respected solicitor in the office, reliable, hard-working, and kind-hearted; from a distance she attributed all these qualities because they were ideal. Whatever she was really like, Amanda didn't care, because in her mind Miss Hermione Granger was perfect.

There were times when Amanda wondered what facial creams, nurturing salves or beauty soaps her boss was using. Her lips had a shiny, natural gloss; she was beautiful in Amanda's eyes even though she didn't wear that much make-up. How could she feel this sort of attraction towards somebody, who was, though only six years older than herself, a woman, still her employer and, of course, straight?

"Ma'am, I'm sorry," Amanda said to clear her mind, feeling her cheeks heating up again. "I—I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just saying goodbye before I leave—"

Miss Granger just smiled kindly, waving her off. "I'll be leaving in a few minutes, too," she said, looking over her shoulder to her desk as though searching for something. "We can leave together, if you won't mind waiting a second."

"No, it's fine. I'll wait."

"Then come in," said Miss Granger, gesturing towards an empty leather chair in front of her large oak desk. "Sorry for the mess. Pansy Parkinson-Goyle is being a pest, as per usual. She has no evidence in regards her husband's infidelity but wants, once again, to demand him. It's unbelievable." Miss Granger shook her head wearingly. "I'm preparing her pleading and hope to get it settled soon in front of the Court."

"Is there anything I can get you, ma'am?" Amanda offered. "I can make you a cup of coffee, or bring you apple spritzer, your favourite drink." She didn't realise that, once again when in the presence of this stunning woman, she had been clutching her purse in her arms like a little girl her stuffed toy.

"No need, thanks," Miss Granger said with a wave of her hand. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sorted some paper files into a folder. It almost seemed like she was trying to avoid looking into Amanda's eyes—not the first time today, she realised, and it's been like that for the last couple of weeks. Did she do anything wrong?

Miss Granger went on rather casually, "If I drink coffee, I won't be able to get any sleep tonight." She turned to Amanda again, briefly. "If I'm holding you back, Amanda, I'm really sorry—it's taking me longer than I thought. You must have some other plans now or—"

"No, no," said Amanda quickly, "I don't have any plans for tonight. I'll wait for you, Miss Granger."

"All right then." After a pause Miss Granger said, "Look at this one, Amanda." She moved from behind her desk to sit on the other small leather chair next to Amanda's. Miss Granger straightened her skirt and crossed her legs. Amanda pressed her purse tighter against her chest, her fists balled to keep them from shaking.

_God, what's wrong with me? Get a grip on yourself_, she chided herself.

Luckily, her boss had placed the folder on her lap, while her eyes scanned the paragraphs. After a short moment, she said, "This is the second time Draco Malfoy is filing for divorce. And he's only twenty-four!" She read: "'Spouse: Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy. Allegations: Unreasonable behaviour: spends too much, is hardly at home!' Good Merlin, Malfoy, still so whiny."

"Yeah, I went over the contents of his petition," Amanda said, looking at the client's folder on Miss Granger's lap, not without noting the heavenly scent of her skin. She sighed deeply, inhaling boss's scent, though she made it seem like she felt sympathy for the Petitioner's wife.

Amanda knew Mr. Draco Malfoy's biography. He was a Hogwarts alumnus, had attended school in the same year like Miss Granger, probably had the same subjects like her, that lucky bastard. He married right after graduation, had eloped with a Muggle-born, got divorced, re-married, now was filing for another divorce. "He probably just hasn't found the One yet," she thought aloud, realising that she must've sounded sappy because she, herself, believed in The One, believed in soulmates, and destiny.

Amanda's lips curved to an awkward smile; she dropped her head, her eyes focusing on that interesting water stain on the mahogany floor. She wondered why Miss Granger was so…_drawn?_ to this particular client's file. It was the same folder she had been smiling at earlier. Maybe she was staring at his picture?

"He never really knew what he wanted," said Miss Granger, as though she knew him very well. Amanda could tell from the tone her boss used it was a subject better not pursued, so she didn't ask her about the relationship she had with this particular client.

"Is everything all right, ma'am? You have a strange look on your face."

"What look?"

"Like, you're sad or something," Amanda pointed out.

"I'm not, don't worry," Miss Granger tried to smile, but failed. "I'm sorry, it's really nothing." She stood up and put the folder back on her desk. "Shall we go now?"

"Yeah, sure." Amanda stood up, too. "Miss Granger?"

"Yes?" She turned around to retrieve her robe and black-leathered purse that were resting on a sideboard, in her other hand she held her keys.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Miss Granger gave her a scrutinising look, hesitating before she said, "What is it?"

"I'm not sure, but I couldn't help but notice that…you work really hard, I mean, even on Saturdays when the office is closed," Amanda said, "You're always the last person to leave the office. Why? Why all that? I mean you're a beautiful and intelligent woman, but don't you go out on dates?"

"Why? Are you going to ask me out?" Miss Granger said facetiously, laughing softly behind her hand. Amanda's felt her face blanch, her heart must have stopped beating for several seconds, or so it felt. "I was kidding, Amanda! Well, I love my job, that's why."

"People trying to repress unbearable memories from their past, or anything unbearable altogether, usually tend to devote themselves on other activities, such as, mostly, unusual, hobbies, or work, to keep their minds off it," Amanda said, matter-of-fact.

Miss Granger lifted a corner of her lip, her eyebrows twitching.

An awkward silence fell between them, wherein Amanda stood observing every possible reaction of the other woman's behaviour, any change in her demeanour. Miss Granger looked thoughtfully back at her, as though contemplating whether to justify the statement or just ignore it. She placed her palm on her chest, then said, "Do you really think I'm beautiful? No one has ever said that to me before." That only meant she chose to ignore Amanda's statement. She raised an eyebrow at her boss, which Miss Granger simply ignored again.

"Thank you, I guess," Then, "Though I can't give you an extra bonus for flattery," she laughed, her eyes sparkling.

"Too bad," Amanda said with fake disappointment, playing along, "and here I am, thinking that buttering you up would help me to get promoted."

They both laughed together. Amanda held the door open for her boss, letting her past through the door. "You smell good," she said out loudly and flinched, quickly wishing her boss didn't hear.

"Sorry?"

"I mean, I like your perfume. What kind of brand is it?"

"Oh, it's Chanel Allure Sensuelle. Ron sent it to me from France," said Miss Granger.

"Oh, I see, your boyfriend is in France, that's why you don't date?" Amanda pressed on, hoping she didn't sound too curious.

Miss Granger smiled warmly and shook her head. "Ron is one of my two best friends since school. He's an Auror and has his training in Versailles."

So she must be single. Amanda bit her lips to keep herself from smiling too obviously.

"Do you want me to help you into your robe?" Amanda offered, taking her boss's robe and help her put it on.

"Oh, a real gentlewoman," mused Miss Granger. For the first time after several weeks, she looked directly into Amanda's eyes.

Amanda didn't know what she was doing, but her hand suddenly moved forward and brushed tenderly over her boss's cheek.

Miss Granger flinched under the touch, seeming to be holding her breath in half-shock, half-surprise.

"S—Sorry, you had some rouge on your cheek," Amanda lied, pulling her hand back quickly before it did funny things again.

"I'm not even wearing rouge," Miss Granger said slyly, stroking her cheek Amanda's hand had touched.

After a rather excruciating silence, Miss Granger nodded once as though she had just realised something, she asked all of a sudden, looking solemn,

"If you don't have any plans for tonight, would you like to have dinner with me? There's something I'd like to talk with you about."


	2. Don't Kiss Your Boss

**Chapter 2 – Rule Number 2: Don't Kiss Your Boss**

Hermione chastised herself on her utter stupidity. If only she had foreseen how this day would end, she wouldn't have asked Amanda for dinner in the first place.

It should have been obvious from the very beginning that this wasn't a good idea, but Hermione didn't heed the warning signs. Instead she had let Ginny convince her to talk with Amanda, that it didn't let Hermione another choice than to concede defeat and finally resolve this dilemma tonight. She was determined to face Amanda and all those confusing thoughts she'd had about her young secretary since that 'incident' had happened a month ago…

_You never know what will be until you try_, Hermione heard Ginny's voice echo in her mind and tried to ignore it.

"Your apartment is wonderfully beautiful, Miss Granger!" Amanda Watson squealed excitedly, as she walked into the living room, reminding Hermione of a schoolgirl seeing Hogwarts for the first time, rather than Hermione's simply furnished apartment.

There was a sparkle in Amanda's round eyes, the colour of blue tropical waters, as if she had dreamt of this day to come true. Maybe Ginny was right and Amanda really had a crush on Hermione, but whether it was true or not, Hermione couldn't let it happen. She thought of the office scandal she would cause if she'd get involved with an employee, not to mention a _female_ employee.

"You know, since we're not in the office anymore, we should dispense the formalities. I insist you call me Hermione," she said casually, toeing off her high-heels and throwing her purse on the sideboard. "Mr. Burton isn't here to tell us off anyway, is he?"

Amanda, turning to her, pulled a grimace. "He's a kiss-ass, anyway. He talks about showing respect by brown-nosing your superior. I kiss your ass and you kiss his ass. That's how it goes."

Hermione laughed. "You don't like him very much, do you?"

"If I told you the truth, I'd have to kill you," Amanda said with a grin. "I'll always owe him one, though," she continued with a grateful smile, "because he assigned me as your secretary and you kept me. And you're the best boss I've ever had the pleasure to work for."

Hermione smiled kindly back, averting the alluring look Amanda gave her. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Yeah, do you have butterbeer?"

"Let's see what I can dig up," Hermione said. "Do you mind if I change into something more comfortable? I can't cook wearing my suit and—"

"Miss Granger—I mean, Hermione, this is your home, right? You don't have to ask for my permission if you want to change your clothes. I mean you could be totally naked and I wouldn't mind," Amanda joked, laughing. But when she realised what she'd just said, she spun quickly around, cheeks flashing crimson, and examined the various books in the book shelf behind her. She was the epitome of a nervous schoolgirl talking to a crush: giggling, blushing, and throwing despondent stares at Hermione when she thought Hermione didn't notice.

"You have so many books," she commented. "Have you read them all?"

"Yes, of course. The ones I haven't read yet are inside this drawer here." Hermione walked towards the cabinet beside Amanda, who winced at the sudden proximity, and pulled the drawer open. It was empty. "Well, I was unfit to buy new books yet," she said with a laugh. "Anyway, just make yourself at home," said Hermione slowly, unsure of how to proceed. "I'll get you your drink."

Hermione went to her kitchen and opened her cupboards and refrigerator; no food or drink whatsoever. _Great!_ She completely forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday after work. How could she know she would, uncharacteristically, spontaneously invite a guest today? This should be another sign to call the day off, she thought and bit her lower lip. The day was bound to be a total mess. How was she going to approach the issue anyway? She'd been procrastinating this day for weeks now, and having Amanda around in the office was getting more disconcerting with each and every day.

In her fridge were some apples, which Ginny brought for her from the garden at the Burrow, and unopened bottles of gillywater, which she transfigured into butterbeer.

"Do you want a glass, too?" Hermione called as she banished the bottle caps.

"No, thank you," came Amanda's voice right behind her, causing Hermione to jump and spin around, immediately catching the familiar playful grin on Amanda's young face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's okay." Hermione, looking down at Amanda's bare feet, handed her one of the bottles. "You shouldn't have taken off your shoes. You're catching a cold," she said, almost sounding like her own mother.

"Nah, I have manners," Amanda said, her smile reaching to her eyes. She even looked much younger when she smiled, Hermione observed, and, once again, she felt old because _she_ had lost her joy in life. She tried to remember when she had been such a youthful soul—just like Amanda.

"I don't want to be an inconvenience," Amanda said now, peeking over Hermione's shoulder to the open, and extremely empty, refrigerator. "I mean I can come back for dinner another time."

"Oh, no," Hermione muttered, feeling embarrassed and kicking the refrigerator door shut, "I'm really sorry—look, we can go to a restaurant if you want. I'm still dressed up, so what do you think?" She hoped that she didn't give Amanda any wrong impression, that she was being pushy, that, assuming Ginny was right and Amanda really had a secret, forbidden crush on Hermione—her boss—that Hermione wanted to be involved with her, because that's what she couldn't afford to happen. A sudden invitation to dinner after being such a snob at work for the last six months was hopefully not causing any suspicion. And what if Amanda just played along? What if she already knew what Hermione was up to?

_Did_ Amanda remember the 'incident'?

"No thanks. Maybe next time," Amanda replied with a wink, breaking into Hermione's worried thoughts, "I'd prefer to taste your home-cooked meal than going to some restaurant."

"All right."

Hermione was in trouble. But since she needed Amanda to stay, at least just for tonight to talk with her, she needed to play along, too.

"But I've promised you a dinner, didn't I?" Hermione pushed her lower lip forward to a small pout, batting her eye lashes once, twice. _Yes, flirt a little,_ she encouraged herself, at the same time feeling silly. But why flirt? Didn't she not want to evoke a false impression? She felt her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. She'd never flirted with another woman before, or with anyone else, for that matter. If Amanda left now, then she wouldn't be able to talk with her. She needed her to stay… "Do you want me to order something? I can call for a pizza delivery. Do you know what that is? Pizza delivery? I mean, it's a Muggle thing and—" she babbled, a natural habit when she was nervous.

Amanda put her hand on Hermione's shoulder, and looked her intently in the eyes. She was a few inches taller than Hermione so she had to lean down. Her strawberry hair looked smooth and silky, and Hermione almost felt ashamed about her bushy, dry hair. "I know what it is. My mum's a Muggle," Amanda said, smiling. "Look, we can have dinner together next time if you still wish. Thank you for the butterbeer." Amanda held up her bottle, then took another sip. "I'll just finish my drink, and then I'll let you rest, okay? You have a meeting at nine in the morning with Mr. Whitson and at one in the afternoon with Mr. Burton and Mr. Sheffield. So don't stress yourself now."

"Alright then," Hermione said after contemplating whether or not to give in. Just that. She needed Amanda to stay.

Miss Granger had changed into shorts and fitted T-shirt that Amanda had to look twice if it really was her boss walking back into the room. Her hair was pulled up with clips and some of the unruly locks were dangling around her ears and trailing down her neck. Even though she was wearing her slouchy clothes, Amanda thought that, in her untrained eye, Miss Granger was still the most attractive woman to ever walk the earth.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder why her boss had suddenly invited her to stay for dinner. It wasn't her usual style to talk with Amanda about anything that didn't relate to office formalities, even more so invite her over to her place and then insisting her to stay.

What if her boss knew she had a crush on her? Had she been so obvious? She was doomed, she was so fired! Maybe Miss Granger wanted to talk with her about her dismissal and since she was a kind person, she wanted to make a kind approach. But why wearing comfortable clothes to talk about dismissals? Or had there been any complaints in the office that she didn't know about? Had one of the other female solicitors been bitching about Amanda because of her lack of potential, lack of law experience, or her behaviour that was totally uncalled-for?

But then again, why not doing it in the office? Amanda took a deep breath and just waited patiently. Maybe Miss Granger wanted to talk about something else…

"We never had the chance to talk about private life, Amanda," Miss Granger said, sitting on the couch beside her and folding her hands on her lap. It reminded Amanda of her boss's first interview with her a half year ago. "So you went to Hogwarts, too?" This was what she wanted to talk about? About private life? If this was a game of getting-to-know-each other, Amanda was game for it.

"Yes. I've started my first year in school year 1997-1998," Amanda told her, changing her position to cross her legs. The boys loved Amanda's tanned and long legs, and even though she wasn't the least bit interested in men, she enjoyed teasing them. She loved it when they gawped at her legs if she wore short, fitting skirts; she was used to all those attention and compliments she got from them. But unfortunately, Hermione—she still had to get used to her boss's first name—didn't seem to care, didn't even give a damn glance at her legs.

_She's definitely straight, goddamn straight,_ Amanda thought bitterly, biting the inside of her cheek in disappointment. But this never hindered her from trying. She loved challenges, after all, and most of all, she loved breaking her own set of unwritten rules.

"That was a hard time, that year with rumours flying round that our teachers were Death Eaters. I didn't know what to believe at first, but then that whole chaos started. You know, when some of us got punished for being either Muggle-borns or halfbloods. It was cruel," Amanda continued. "But I think you know all of that already, right? You were there, in the middle of the battle. I saw you."

"You saw me?"

"Yes, with the famous Harry Potter. I remember your face," Amanda told her matter-of-factly. "I didn't know your name yet, but I remember your face."

Hermione's expression was uncertain, but she kept on listening. "So, what was I doing, when you saw me? And where did you see me? Just among the crowd? Because I didn't attend school when you were a first year, which should have been my, goodness, seventh year, actually."

"Yeah, well, I saw you in the crowd. You were talking to a tall, blond guy," Amanda qualified, taking a long sip of her butterbeer and noticing with every word she said Hermione's posture tensing. "That guy from Slytherin. He was pale looking, pointy face, and—and, I don't know exactly anymore. But you looked very close; I could tell by the way you looked at him."

She expected Hermione to ask her why she had noticed _her_ of all people amidst the chaos that had been going on then, but instead Hermione said, after closing her eyes and exhaling noisily, "I—I don't know who you mean." As though she was trying to ban a hurtful memory.

"That was Mr. Malfoy, right? I recognised his face from his file," Amanda pointed out thoughtfully, causing Hermione to hold her breath instantly. Tilting her head to the side, she added with a soft smile, "Our multi-divorced client; he's either always marrying the wrong woman or he hasn't found yet what he was looking for. You were friends with him?" she said after a pause. "When I saw you then, you two looked like you were saying goodbye to each other."

It almost seemed like Amanda hit the nail on the head, for Hermione froze on her seat like a statue by mentioning Draco Malfoy's name. She tried not to show how it was affecting her, but seeing her not blinking and her breath hitching, Amanda could tell that there was something wrong. Was Draco Malfoy possibly an ex lover of her? Would the petition of his divorce be positive or negative news to Hermione?

"No, we weren't friends. Draco Malfoy was a boy who ruffled feathers in his schooldays," Hermione said now softly behind her glass, smiling sadly. "He was our enemy. He was somehow…forced to join the wrong side." Her voice was vulnerable, barely above a soft whisper.

_They were enemies,_ Amanda repeated in her mind, what does it mean? Judging Hermione's expression and her behaviour, did she mean that she'd fallen in love with her enemy and that their love hadn't had a chance to prosper?

"Do you think you still have a spark of love for him, Hermione? Until now?" Amanda guessed tentatively, surprised about Hermione's reaction. She didn't want to intrude into her boss's privacy and ruin the comfortable atmosphere they had established so far, but Amanda was curious.

Feeling she had gone too far, Amanda added quickly, "Don't feel obligated to answer, though, I mean I was just guessing anyway."

"No, it's all right," Hermione responded, putting her glass of butterbeer on the table in front of her. She didn't justify the term 'love', which seemed intriguing. And she almost seemed like she wanted to talk about her pain, wanted to bare her soul to Amanda.

"I—I _used to_ have feelings for him, yes, but I also loved Ron. I was confused back then; I didn't know what I wanted. Though I always knew I loved one more than the other. Ron and I kissed for the first time then, because I knew Draco and I were just not right for each other. Yet I realised that I could never see Ron as anything more than just a brother." Hermione leaned back and stared at the ceiling, her tears welling in her eyes, but she continued her story. "Ron and I dated for two years after the battle, but it ultimately didn't work out. I couldn't tell him what was wrong and what kind of mistake I've done. I tried to build and create something, until I realised I could never have it with him. I was devastated; the truth was that I chose the wrong man."

_Definitely straight,_ Amanda concluded, sighing. Why was Hermione telling her this? To turn her off? To make clear that she wasn't interested in women? So what?

Still, Amanda felt compelled to bestow her wisdom about heartbreak upon Hermione, just to make her feel better.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Hermione. I can see that you still have feelings for Mr. Malfoy and it's got nothing to do with the obvious fact that you blush and get distressed whenever you mention his name," Amanda said, rustling nervously because she'd just confirmed that she had been looking closely at her boss to make this kind of observation. She looked Hermione in the eyes. "I may not know the kind of hurt you're feeling because I'm not in your shoe, but you're strong, you know, you're not a pushover. You're working hard to divert your attention on work; it shows the willingness to get over him. I assume the mistake you're referring to that you had with him shouldn't have happened in the first place, but still, he promised you the world, but you refused him with the lame reason that he is your enemy and that you didn't want to hurt the other people you love, like Ron." Amanda took a deep breath. "A lost love isn't a licence to punishing yourself and making your life miserable, you know? Besides, you can't please everybody."

"God, how'd you…" Hermione trailed off with her mouth partly agape, amazement and disbelief reflecting in her eyes. "When did you give up Psychology to become a secretary? I'm sorry, no offence meant. I—" Hermione looked down on her lap, blushing slightly.

"Don't be." It was Amanda's turn to blush. "It has nothing to do with Psychology. I'm a woman, too, you know." She laughed and flashed her teeth. Hermione laughed now too, wiping the corner of her eyes with the back of her hand.

When their eyes locked for a moment, they were both serious again. "Is that what's been bothering you? It's okay if you talk with me about things like that. I'll be always around if you need me," Amanda whispered. It felt like she'd seen that look on Hermione's face before, but she just couldn't remember when.

"No, actually…" Hermione trailed off again, staring at Amanda as though she was trying to figure out an unsolved question—that she was searching an answer not related to former ex lovers, not related to men in general, but something that had happened very recently.

And whatever it was that possessed Amanda it took over as sudden as it came. She leaned in towards Hermione, and, even though she fought the urge not to touch her lips to hers, she couldn't stop herself. To her own surprise, Hermione's eyes drifted shut the closer she got, giving the assumption that Hermione wanted this too. But before their lips met, her butterbeer spilled over Hermione's shorts, causing both of them to draw away.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Amanda jumped.

"Don't worry about it." Hermione conjured a cloth from the kitchen with a flick of her wand, but Amanda caught it in midair before Hermione could grab it.

"It's my fault, I'll help you," Amanda said hastily. She placed her butterbeer on the table and brushed with the cloth over Hermione's shorts, on the insides of her thigh. "I'm really sorry, really," she murmured, shaking her head at her own clumsiness, only slightly aware that she was brushing Hermione's thigh with her free hand.

"It's just butterbeer. Don't worry about it," Hermione said, pushing Amanda's hands away.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to dry it—with magic, of course?" Amanda asked half-smiling, indicating Hermione's wet shorts.

"I can do that myself, Amanda, it's really all right," Hermione said, looking uncomfortable. With her hand still unmoving and remaining on Hermione's knee, Amanda decided to withdraw it quickly, but Hermione held it in place.

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable," Amanda said with trembling voice, staring down at Hermione's hand on hers.

But then Hermione tilted her chin up to make her look at her, though flinching at the touch, Amanda didn't miss to notice that there was this look on Hermione's face again, as though she was battling with herself, like now or never.

"What is it?" Amanda asked with questioning eyes.

"Do you remember this?"

And this time, it was Hermione who leaned in to connect their lips. Just a simple brush of their lips that made the world spin around them, that caused Amanda to hold her breath until she felt light-headed.

_Yes, I remember this,_ she almost said, because this happened a lot in her fantasies. Not in the real world. Not with the actual person she'd been secretly admiring since the day they'd first met.

Amanda kissed her back softly, moved her lips tentatively until Hermione sighed in pleasure. This was definitely not what she had expected tonight. Would her dismissal follow afterwards? she wondered and smiled against Hermione's lips.

Then, though reluctantly, Amanda withdrew slightly to look at Hermione's expressionless face. And her senses must have returned to her for she got up quickly, eyes wide in shock, face blanching visibly.

"You should go," Hermione said without looking at her.

Amanda stood up, confused, dazzled, and walked towards the front door. But…what the heck just happened?

Several minutes later after Amanda left her flat, Hermione lay on her bed and pressed her eyes together, hugging her pillow, and again, chastising herself on her utter stupidity. She felt more stupid now than ever, embarrassed, and wished she had never dared to kiss Amanda.

Not only didn't she resolve her dilemma but she even made it worse. And if Amanda knew what had happened exactly a month ago, she would understand Hermione's behaviour.


	3. Don't Flirt With Your Boss

**Chapter3 – Rule Number 3: Don't Flirt With Your Boss**

_ONE MONTH PREVIOUSLY_

"Just shut it, Hermione. We're going to have some fun tonight."

"Why did we have to go here of all places?"

It wasn't like Hermione to whine and complain when she felt scratchy, but she couldn't help it. It must be an ugly habit she had subconsciously copied from Ron when they were still together. After all, when he had grumbled like a little child, Hermione, despite her scolding, had always tried to make it more convenient for him just to shut him up. She had more and more somewhat replaced his mother, which suited him just right, but it wasn't the relationship Hermione had wanted. Because secretly, she was the one who wanted to be pampered.

Her protest didn't work on Ginny, though. She disregarded all her complaints, determined to make Hermione forget work, stress, and all the pressure just for tonight. And since Ginny was rarely in town because of her Quidditch training, Hermione had half-heartedly agreed to join her.

The streets were still wet from the fresh rain, and Hermione was walking in uncomfortable pumps that made her heels hurt like hell. She was sure to catch sight of new blisters when she got home. Her eyes only slowly adjusted to the darkness of this alleyway where they had just turned, so it frustrated her when she couldn't see where she was actually walking. And using her wand to light up the way would be risky in this area where Muggles were living, so she simply hoped to get out of there as soon as possible. A reeking smell wafted towards her face, she wrinkled her nose and tried to figure out where that smell came from, at the same time wondering where the hell Ginny was taking her to.

She'd rather stay at home and review her draft of the interview she'd had earlier with a client and prepare the pleading for the court—at least it was something productive—than pace along this deserted, murky passage where they could easily bump into a group of drunken, riotous men, who would most likely harass them, two young women who were lost in this place. Instinctively, Hermione gripped her wand under her trench coat, suddenly alarmed. Although Muggle men, no matter whether in majority, had no chance against two witches who can perform magic, the idea still worried Hermione. It was one thing to fight against Death Eaters and Voldemort, but another if those were just defenceless Muggles.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder and gave a smile, seeming to notice the silence. "Don't look like that, Hermione. We're almost there," she said, misinterpreting Hermione's expression.

Hermione suppressed a groan and narrowed her eyes at Ginny. "Where the heck are we? Is this still London? Why did we have to leave so early from the restaurant? I didn't even finish my dessert," she ranted.

"Dessert? You were working on your pleading," Ginny shook her head. "Do me a favour and don't continue it there where we're going."

"_Where_ are we going?"

Ginny laughed, slowing down her pace to walk beside Hermione. "You don't go out a lot, do you? So you're not familiar with this place? Ah, we're there. Hell's Night Club." Hermione followed Ginny's gaze and blinked a few times, grimacing at what she saw.

"Hell's what?"

She looked up the rotten, small building that resembled an abandoned factory with broken glasses, large containers, and empty boxes piled on either side of the gate. There were also forklifts covered in a thick layer of dust—so maybe it was a factory. The gate was painted with graffiti, and there really was a huge drawing filling the entire wall of what Muggles imagined to look like hell: a bottomless pit, a place where fire is not quenched.

At least for Hermione the place itself was _hell_, as was the whole evening. But…who was she to judge places? Other people lived in this area. Or maybe her mood was just the outcome of a tiring day, of her persistent friend who took her out tonight, of her sore feet, and the rainy weather. Oh, and not to mention that she had her moment of the month. But even _that_ didn't excuse her from this trip. They weren't going to go swimming after all, Ginny had assured her.

Hermione sighed, "Let's put it behind us then." She marched forward for the gate, but then felt a tug on her arm that made her stagger backward. She looked confusedly at Ginny. "What?"

"Where are you going?" Ginny asked, staring at her like _she_ had lost her mind.

Something was strange about the place, which she would have probably figured out sooner if she hadn't been secretly plotting a plan on how to get away from here without Ginny noticing. Not that she would have done it, though, leaving her friend all by herself alone in this place. But still, she was tempted. It was supposed to be a _club_ but there was no music drumming from inside, nor were there people anywhere to see or to hear. Not that Hermione was looking forward for loud music and random chatters that would only hurt her eardrums and increase her headache, but there should be at least music coming from somewhere.

It was _quiet_.

She glanced at Ginny warily, who looked quickly around to ensure they were alone, drew her wand and tapped it in three short swings against the wall. So the place was concealed by magic, what else?

Nothing happened. Even when Ginny tucked away her wand and waited too. She stared expectantly at the graffiti painting on the wall.

"Great painting, isn't it?" Ginny asked in awe.

"Hell yes!" Hermione muttered, unimpressed. She had never been fond of art.

"Hell yes?" Ginny repeated, pulling a face. "Since when do say that?"

And then there was a movement. The fire in hell burned to life—literally—though there was no heat and a secret passage appeared.

Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand and pulled her forward. There was light at the end of the passage that shaped a doorframe. There was music now too, drumming faintly in the distance, and getting louder the closer they approached it.

Ginny pushed the door open.

Hermione had never been in clubs or bars before or even had a favourite party haunt, had never really been interested in trying out one, even when she was a teenager. _Especially_ when she was a teenager. She just wasn't that type of girl who hangs out in bars and has drinks with friends, especially with boys, though the pubs in Hogsmeade or the few visits in Knockturn Alley with her friends didn't really count. But what she saw now was just beyond amazing.

It was a dim-lit, high-ceilinged room with burgundy and black walls. There were neon-lights and signs. It was crowded. The first thing that caught Hermione's eyes was the immense screen on the right, there on the wall that projected the dancing people at it, from different angles, even people who just entered, like her and Ginny. She cringed when she saw herself a couple of minutes being projected on the screen, and ran a hand at the back of her untamed hair very self-consciously. She really shouldn't have come here at all.

The music was loud but not unpleasant; it was a rhythmic beat that filled the entire room. The other people were dancing on extended platforms or on the dance floor, their hands thrown in the air, jumping and moving to the beat.

"Let's get some drinks," Ginny said over the music, pulling on Hermione's hand again. They reached the counter and sat there. The bartender motioned to them almost instantly. "Two firewhiskies, please!"

"Ginger ale for me," Hermione amended. "I don't like hard drinks, and, I really shouldn't get too drunk tonight."

The bartender, a tall man with his dark hair slicked back and wearing a black vest over his white shirt and black slacks, summoned their drinks. He winked at Ginny and threw a playful smile at Hermione. "You like it _soft_, huh?" He shifted his eyes from her to Ginny, as if implying something.

Hermione blinked in confusion. "Come again?"

"Let her be, Aaron. She's just a friend, and I'm engaged, for Merlin's sake," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. She pushed the ginger ale towards Hermione and frowned at Aaron. "I already had a hard time getting her here."

Aaron laughed and left, not without calling over his shoulder, "You never know what will be," with that significant look that made Ginny laugh in return and Hermione uncomfortable.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked.

"Just ignore him," Ginny took a sip from her firewhisky, watching the dancing people.

After a silent moment of scanning the place, Hermione spoke again, "You're here often," she ventured.

"Yeah. Before, almost every second weekend," Ginny told her, sipping at her drink. "I came here with Luna once, but due to our work our schedules always overlap. When my team mates are in town, we hang out a lot here too. But they're so wild and I can hardly keep up with them, not now, 'specially, because I would only hurt Harry," she said with a guilty look. And Hermione felt an urge to prod, but didn't. Ginny would've told her if there was something.

"I see," Hermione said with a raised eyebrow. "How did you discover this place?" she wondered, stripping off her trench coat. She put it on the empty chair beside her, her purse on her lap. She realised too late that she was overdressed for this place. Ginny didn't even give her time to change her outfit when she had _kidnapped_ Hermione from her office. So Hermione took off her blazer, too, revealing her purple blouse with the V-neck cut. At least it looked somewhat appropriate, since the other women wore something similar.

"Lavender, Padma, and Parvati introduced me to this place," Ginny said casually, breaking into Hermione's reverie. She shrugged off her robe, too. At least Ginny was dressed like the others, wearing a black tank top and tight jeans. Being only two years younger than Hermione was, still, Ginny fitted more into this whole scene, and suddenly Hermione felt old when she saw her own life passing her by. For heavens, she was only twenty-five and she already felt like a middle-aged woman! She needed a change; that was for sure.

"I had no idea that the Patil twins go to places like this," Hermione said critically, ignoring the pity she felt about herself.

"You sound shocked, Hermione," said Ginny, furrowing her eyebrows. "This isn't a brothel or strip club after all, which, by the way, wouldn't be bad at all, either. Wizards and witches from upper classes party here, or even celebrities. Anyway, get yourself ready," —Ginny paused to empty her drink with one go. She drew two silver tickets from her robe pocket and fanned her face with it, smiling smugly— "we're going to the VIP lounge."

They walked straight through the large curtains that separated the main room from the VIP lounge. The lounge Ginny chose was a modest little room, dim and adequate, with a railing directed to the main room, where they had a perfect view of the entire dance floor.

Ginny Weasley, soon-to-be Mrs. Harry Potter, being a professional Quidditch player of the Holyhead Harpies, certainly had a lucrative income. She was extremely generous and she loved sharing her fortune with her friends, especially with Hermione. Since they had left Hogwarts, Ginny and Harry had reunited and moved in together four years later. Of course they had many ups and downs before that had happened, but at the end, they had managed to take their relationship more seriously and move to the next level of living together. They were engaged now and would marry next year eventually, where Hermione should attend as her maid of honour.

Hermione was ecstatic for her friend, she just hated being a bridesmaid for the third time: the first time on Bill and Fleur's wedding, the second on that arse-faced Malfoy and Astoria's (she almost forgot that she'd been friends with Astoria Greengrass before—long time before the inner turmoil she was feeling right now regarding their marriage), and now, it was Ginny's turn to marry soon. Not unless George married Angelina before Ginny and Harry do, and Angelina chose Hermione as her bridesmaid, too. That would be just bloody freaking fantastic.

Hermione shoved off all thoughts of weddings and friends who had happily found their soul mates, and wanted to order another drink, when she realised that their drinks had been replaced already.

"You're dreaming, Hermione, what's going on with you?" Ginny asked a bit concerned. She sat across from Hermione on the round wing chair. "Aren't you enjoying yourself? Oh right, not with that non-alcoholic drink you're drinking."

"Of course I am," Hermione said defensively. She stared at the glass of ginger ale and sipped a few times at it, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "I was thinking of the old times, you know. Do you remember Malfoy's wedding?" Didn't she just decide that she'd not think about weddings anymore?

"_Come on!_" Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. To Hermione's own surprise, she had expected this reaction. Ginny, the only person who knew all about the whole story, disliked talking about the past with Malfoy and Astoria, knowing that it was only a hurtful memory that had haunted Hermione for several years.

Draco and Astoria Malfoy's marriage had been front page news for weeks in the _Daily Prophet_, like the Malfoy heir had finally found his better half. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, his parents had never forgiven him for secretly marrying a Muggle-born right after school even if they had made him divorce her weeks later when they had found out about it.

What had come to Malfoy's mind when he had married that Muggle-born, Hermione wondered, when he'd always been such a prejudiced prat in school towards Hermione, who he shunned because she was a Muggle-born? Had the girl he'd married then only been a stand-in, or proof to Hermione, that he, indeed, was capable of marrying someone whose blood wasn't as pure as his? That he hadn't been lying to Hermione that he could and would marry her, Hermione, if she had only said yes to him all those years ago?

How narrow-minded of him if that were the case. Or maybe…he had really loved that girl.

But then again, seeing that he had divorced her on behalf of his parents, it clearly proved that he loved his family more. He would never change. Malfoy was an arsehole through and through…

Ginny was the only person Hermione had confided her secret to about her and Malfoy years ago in school. A single mistake in her teenager years. That one big mistake!

"Hermione, stop dreaming!" Ginny's voice and her waving hand brought Hermione back to the present. "We're supposed to have fun tonight, and if that means I have to force you on the dance floor using the Cruciatus Curse or something else, then I—Hermione, hey!" Ginny sighed, running her hand over her face in frustration.

"Hm…I was just thinking about…" Hermione trailed off, lost in space. "Hell's Night Club…" she mumbled, "Why does it sound so familiar?" She was thoughtful for a moment, as an old memory was coming back to her.

"Okay," Ginny said, surrendering, "what about Malfoy's wedding? And stop talking to yourself. You look like a crazy woman."

Hermione looked over to the dance floor, watching the people there. "He—he said something to me long time ago that I must've repressed, but remembered again because of this place. I don't know…I'm sorry I brought it up." She shook her head and laughed humourlessly. "You're right, we're here to have some fun, but I'm definitely not going to dance."

Ginny blinked, staring at Hermione as though she had lost it. "Wait, you start of with 'Malfoy's wedding' and 'He said something to me' and then you don't go on? What is it? You know I hate it if you make me all curious first and then just cut it of. What did he say?"

"It's been so long, I don't even know if I got him right. He'd been mumbling, and—ah, maybe it was nothing. I just remembered because he mentioned this place, Hell's Night Club."

Ginny leaned slightly forward, furrowing her eyebrows in an intimidating way. "What did he say?" she repeated impatiently.

Hermione, trying to retrieve a long buried memory, looked up at the burgundy wall behind Ginny as if projecting the memory there. "He was ineptly fixing his tie in front of the mirror," she said with a reminiscent smile, "I was passing by his room and he saw me. He said, 'Granger, wait a minute. Can I speak to you?' I said, 'Sure, but make it quick, your bride can hardly wait to marry you. She looks gorgeous by the way. Nice choice, Malfoy, though you don't deserve her' He looked so serious that I couldn't even taunt him, and, I'm not sure, maybe he looked sad too. Imagine, Ginny, shouldn't he be elated because he was going to marry such a wonderful person like Astoria?"

Ginny grimaced slightly. She didn't share Hermione's opinion. "I hardly know her. And Malfoy's never been ordinary."

"Anyway, Draco pulled me into the room and—oh goodness," Hermione gasped at the memory and blushed, closing her eyes.

"What? What did he do?"

"He—um, he _kissed_ me," Hermione whispered, opening her eyes and staring directly at her friend. "On the lips, Ginny! Imagine, on his wedding day, he did that with another woman. I mean, with me. But I'm not judging."

"It was just a kiss, for Merlin's sake," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "You've _shagged_ in school."

Hermione flinched but decided to ignore her. "I was over him already, I told myself. I asked him what his problem was, and I—_slapped_ him." Hermione fidgeted on her skirt, drawing circles on her knee just to keep her hand busy.

"He kissed you and you slapped him," Ginny repeated. "Uh huh, and then?"

"He said that he probably deserved that, but then he—kissed me again," Hermione continued, staring at the wall again. "He mumbled something against my lips, like 'Four years from now, meet me in 'Hell's Night Club' in London before midnight'. I didn't know what he meant since I've never heard of this place before, and why he requested that, was a mystery to me. I mean, in four years? That's next month, Ginny. And there's been a rumour that his marriage with Astoria is bound to shatter, that he's been filing the divorce petition."

Ginny let that sink in. "You mean he's planned all that for years to leave her for you?" she reiterated.

"I didn't say that," Hermione said a bit fiercely. "Maybe I just got him wrong. I don't know."

"Maybe."

They remained silent for a few minutes, processing the words. The music changed to somewhat faster and with more beat and rhythm. Ginny emptied her firewhisky and summoned another one. She scratched her right eyebrow, thoughtful for a moment, and then ran her hand through her wavy long hair.

"He's an arse who just got cold feet on his wedding day. That happens," she said after a long pause. "That didn't mean anything, Hermione, I mean the kiss and all. And relationships don't always work smoothly, especially marriages. Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm not some naïve teenager, Ginny, I know," Hermione pointed out with a frown. "I shouldn't have started it."

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just…" Ginny took a deep breath. "D'you know what I think? But before you get mad, just hear me out, alright?"

Hermione just glared, tightening her grip around the neck of her glass. "You sound like I'm not going to like it."

"Alright, wait," Ginny paused, taking a sip from her new drink. "I mean, y'know, with Ron. You both had in mind to get together, so you ended up together, but unfortunately it didn't work. You dated other blokes, but you never found any of them attractive, or good enough to start a relationship with. In your mind, you have Malfoy on the 'waiting list,'" Ginny drew quotation marks in midair, "as if secretly you're waiting for him and use this as an excuse just to block out other men. You try to search for eventual flaws, and then dump them. You bury yourself with work, hate it if we try to hook you up with other men—"

"_You_ try to pair me up with men," Hermione amended. "They were all…extraordinaire, Ginny. The last one had tattoos all over his arms and had his ears, nose, and lip pierced."

"What I'm saying," Ginny interrupted, sighing nosily, "is that, maybe, you're looking for something else. Something different."

"I'm not looking _at all_! What's wrong with being a single?" Hermione snapped.

"Nothing's wrong with it, but I'm worried because you don't even have a social life."

"Social life? I'm always among people, and I have friends. Just because I don't go on parties and sleep around—"

"You're among _clients_, and you hardly go out with friends," Ginny retorted. "When was the last time you went out on a date?"

Hermione groaned, then shrugged. Goodness, when was the last time? Last year? "My work keeps me busy," she said simply.

"And the last time you had sex?" Ginny prodded, unabashed.

Head heating up like it was under scorching fire, Hermione shrieked in indignation, "That's none of your business!"

"Whatever!"

"If your intentions were to find me a prospective date partner here, then I'm not interested," Hermione said quickly when she found her voice back. She placed her glass on the table and rose from her seat.

"Where're you going?"

_Heading for the exit,_ she thought. "Washroom," she said.

On her way to the facilities that led through a narrow dim-lit corridor, someone bumped against her, and mumbled something unintelligible. Maybe a curse word or just an excuse, Hermione couldn't tell.

"Oh excuse me," Hermione murmured anyway, half turning around without looking at the other's face.

"Nice bum," came a remark from the same person she'd just bumped into, a young woman. Hermione didn't bother to look back, figuring that the other woman would be probably talking to some guy that came from the VIP lounge when she suddenly felt a soft pinch on her backside.

"Hey!" Hermione spun around, and her jaw dropped when she finally stared at the person. "Amanda? Oh…but…?"

"Huh?"

Amanda Watson, her secretary, was standing right in front of her, appearing taller than she already was even without those few inches high boots she wore tonight. Not that Hermione had ever looked close enough, or stood close enough to this woman to make this observation. Her usually neat, clipped hair was dangling loosely over her shoulders, strands of them hanging in her face. She was wobbling on her feet, looking like she was going to fall over.

Hermione knew this young woman for almost six months now—superficially only, of course—since she had started working for her in the office. She'd always been presentable in her elegant style, a _feast for the eyes_, if she might recite the men's comments, with her knee-length tight-fitting skirts and tailored blouses, accentuating her slender figure.

At the beginning, Hermione had been sceptic to employ Amanda because of her _appeal_ to Hermione's male co-workers that would certainly only lead to an office scandal or some sort, make them drool over the young beauty during work, or whatever else would happen, but since Amanda had proven herself as conventional and enterprising, who had not only the knowledge and ability of a legal secretary but was as well as ambitious, Hermione had kept her. It would be sexism if Hermione had rejected her application just because the young woman was attractive. Who was she to judge the book by its cover? Her male co-workers drooled over the young beauty, yes, but she didn't entertain them back.

But it almost seemed like Amanda had shown her real side tonight. Wild. Drunk. Flirtatious. And she wasn't flirting with just anybody—she was flirting with her boss! Her _female_ boss, for heavens! Was she even aware of that? Hermione excused her secretary's behaviour with the obvious, simple reason: she was young, and, even though already nineteen years old, she was still a _teen_ager.

Leaning against the wall like she wasn't able to keep herself upright, Amanda narrowed her eyes down on Hermione. By the way she stared _through_ Hermione with her heavy-lidded glassy eyes, she didn't seem like she realised who she was talking to.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, resting her hand on Amanda's arm.

Amanda fixated Hermione's hand, when slowly a playful smirk spread on her lips. It took a second for Hermione to realise what was actually happening, and another second that it was too late to elude it. Their bodies crushed against each other when Amanda pulled her close, and, despite the light reek of alcohol and the sweatiness on the young woman's body, Amanda smelled good, like watermelon and mint.

And there was the softness of her body… the curves…

_Did it just get hot in this room?_

"You're so cute," she burbled, breathing against Hermione's lips but barely touching them, though it was enough to cause a prickle in Hermione's stomach.

"Oh God!" Hermione, feeling mortified by the situation, tried to extricate herself from Amanda's arms, which caused Amanda to slightly reel on her feet, that Hermione had no other choice than to keep her hold on the young woman. So she pressed her against the wall. "You're drunk, Amanda. Are you here with someone?" Hermione looked down the empty corridor. "You may want to sit with me and a friend, so that we'll get you home safely."

Amanda held the back of Hermione's head and leered down at her. Moving their faces closer again, she purred, "Such a pretty face. So…pretty."

"What ar—"

It happened then.

She kissed her.

When she felt Amanda's lips squished against hers, Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she tensed automatically. No matter how awkward it was, how forceful the kiss was at the beginning, the lips themselves, though, were soft. Amanda moved them once and traced lightly her tongue over Hermione's closed lips. The tiny tingle Amanda's taunting lips and tongue caused in Hermione's stomach urged her to kiss back, but she was too scared to do it, too uncertain. _And why did she even consider kissing her back?_ another voice, the logical part, argued a split second later. _Why wasn't she pulling away?_ the voice continued.

She had never thought of kissing another woman before, had never fancied other girls in school before, nor had she ever felt attracted to the same sex before. But still… If this was a woman equally attractive and young as Amanda who Hermione had also met in this night club tonight, would she have kissed her back without reluctance, without uncertainty?

Undoubtedly yes!

_What?_

But this woman _was_ Amanda Watson, her own employee, not even twenty years old. For Heaven's sake—six years younger. And this certainly was going to cause a scandal. So Hermione should better pull away, shouldn't she?

It didn't help much when Amanda moaned against her lips, which was rather distracting and at the same time…arousing, for some reason beyond Hermione.

Hermione finally managed to draw away, and pushed Amanda with her palms.

"Uff," Amanda huffed when she hit the wall.

"There you are!" a voice exclaimed in annoyance mixed with relief. Hermione looked over to find a guy she had never seen before glowering at them. He had narrow eyes that looked droopy in the dim light; his light straight hair was worn in a severe style. "Hey, get your hands off her!" he growled at Hermione as though she was some pervert with no virtuous intentions caught in the middle of the act. He dragged Amanda away from her and brushed her hair out of her face to examine her dilapidated eyes.

Usually, Hermione wasn't slow to catch but apparently this place and the whole atmosphere and Ginny and her brazen questioning and Amanda and the kiss killed a few of her brain cells, because this time she needed an extra long second to understand what the guy actually meant.

"I didn't do anything to her," Hermione said, flabbergasted. She realised that Amanda was clutching at the sleeve of her blouse, not letting go. Hermione squeezed it briefly, as if to assure she was going to be alright. "You'd better take care of your girlfriend. She's obviously had one drink too many," she said with authority in her voice.

"Thank you, Mother!" the guy spat, pursing his lips.

"Wha-? 's mum here?" Amanda asked, looking panicked. She was clutching at the guy's other arm for support.

The guy grabbed Amanda's arm and pulled her along with him. "C'mon you vixen, you're in big trouble," he ordered Amanda like she was a little child. He called over his shoulder to Hermione, a warning in his voice. "Stay away from her, got that?"

Who did he believe Hermione was to treat her like this? One of Amanda's school girl friends?

_Stay away from her,_ Hermione repeated in her mind and almost laughed if the situation weren't serious. _She's working for me._

"How dare you! For your information, I'm her—" Hermione yelled after them, but they'd already disappeared around the corner, and her voice was drowned by the loud music, "—boss," she hissed through her breath.

Amanda owed her an explanation for this.

Even on Monday morning, Hermione's head was still spinning from the party she had been with Ginny. She hadn't been able to sleep that night then, or rather that morning since she had come home at four. Her eyes felt sore, and as expected, her heels had blisters from her shoes. Even a warm bath didn't ease her tense muscles.

Indeed, after what had happened, Hermione had insisted to drink firewhisky to wash off the taste of Amanda's sweet lips, and even danced for hours to forget the warm feel of Amanda's delicate body.

That's when the whole confusion began…

She wanted to ask Amanda about her welfare since the poor girl had looked disastrous when she had last seen her in the night club. But Amanda didn't work Monday morning so Hermione would have to wait for her until after lunch time. But would she be able to just ask her?

_Had a nice weekend, Amanda? You looked good in those boots; by the way, do you happen to remember the kiss you unexpectedly gave me?_ Nah, that wouldn't do it…

Someone knocked on her door. Timmy, one of her co-worker's secretary, a short man with a bald head. "Miss Granger, a Miss Weasley wants to speak to you," he told her. There was concern in his almond-shaped eyes. "Did you work all weekend again? You look like you need vacation."

"Yes, definitely," Hermione moaned, "send her in."

Ginny, with that smug smile on her face like last Friday when she'd kidnapped Hermione to that night club, entered her office. "Want to go out again tonight?" she asked, laughing. She closed the door behind her and sat on the small leather chair in front of Hermione's oak desk.

"Not funny," Hermione grunted.

"Is Amanda here?"

Hermione stiffened but made some effort not to show it. She hadn't told Ginny yet about that incident that happened between her and Amanda, or maybe she did tell Ginny, she just couldn't remember exactly. Her head hurt. Judging Ginny's smug look and her sudden inquiry for Amanda, she'd probably told her. _Great!_

"Ginny, please," Hermione warned, not being able to focus on her client's Complaint for Divorce form she was going through. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

There was a short silence between them. It would be too good to be true if Ginny actually listened, but knowing her friend, she was probably plotting something _wicked_. Maybe she already had something planned; she only waited for the right moment to set it. That's just so Ginny!

"You renovated your office," Ginny commented, changing the topic. "It looks nice."

Hermione looked up to see Ginny scanning the room, trying to hide the grin on her face.

_See?_

"Okay, what it is, Ginny?" Hermione slammed her file folder shut, throwing her friend a fiery look. "Amanda's not here yet if you're really looking for her. Stay out of it," she added, and hoped she didn't sound too pleading. She'd beg if necessary.

"Whatever! I got you an apple," Ginny said, retrieving the fruit from her purse and placing it on Hermione's desk, clearly trying to tease her. "I thought you need vitamins to boost you. You look drained."

"Really?" Hermione frowned at her.

There was another knock at the door, and it opened. It made Hermione and Ginny turn towards the door simultaneously, but it was only Hermione who tensed involuntarily. _Well, speaking of forbidden fruits!_ Hermione thought and almost laughed. So this was what Ginny was insinuating with the damn apple. _Good one, Ginny!_

_For God's sake, what's the matter with me? _

Amanda appeared at the door, carrying a new folder in her hand. It was _the_ Amanda Hermione knew as her secretary: elegant-looking in her office outfit, curly strawberry-blonde hair clipped neatly back, a gentle smile on her young face. But Hermione still had _the_ Amanda from the night club in her mind, still felt that warm body pressed against hers, that softness of her petal lips lingering on her own. Hermione blushed and dropped her eyes at once.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," Amanda said in greeting. Her eyes shifted to Ginny. "Oh, good afternoon, ma'am. Can I bring either of you coffee or something else?"

"_Hot_ coffee would be nice," Ginny said, making it sound like a dirty word. Yes, right, Hermione had described the kiss as _hot_ despite it all when she'd told Ginny about the 'incident' after several firewhisky later. Why couldn't she just have shut her mouth? "With sugar," she added with sweetness in her voice.

Amanda looked confused. "Okay, hot coffee it is," she said. She walked towards Hermione's desk to place the folder there, wafting a watermelon scent towards Hermione's nose. "Miss Granger, here's the file Mr. Hamilton wants you to sign. It's a Separation Agreement between Mr. and Mrs. Stanley, since you were responsible for handling the cause on his behalf. I've duplicated the document that'll be sent to Mrs. Stanley's solicitor right after."

"Thank you," Hermione said, looking up briefly. Her handwriting became shaky, and her breathing went uneven. Must be the lack of oxygen in this room, she told herself. She got up from her chair to search something in her file cabinet behind her, rummaging in it just to hide her nervousness.

There was a short silence behind her, and Hermione wondered if Ginny and Amanda were exchanging a significant look just to taunt her. Great! Now she was being paranoid.

"Do you need anything else?" Amanda inquired.

"No."

She heard Amanda leaving the office and shutting the door carefully, and felt Ginny's eyes boring at her back. She was worried to turn around.

"What was _that_?" asked Ginny, gobsmacked.

"What was what?"

"Nah, _that_!"

Another sigh, a prolonged pause, Hermione turned around and glared at her friend, feeling irritation building inside her. She thought that Ginny meant _her_ strange behaviour towards Amanda, which would have actually been comprehensible, wouldn't it? Wouldn't she, Ginny, feel uncomfortable when she had done something irrational, something crazy, and foolish with someone else, which she would have certainly regretted afterwards? But there was surprise in her friend's face, her mouth partly open in amazement. Fact was, Ginny was surprised about something else…

"Whoa…" Ginny said behind her hand, giggling like a preschool girl.

"What? Ginny, it's so not funny."

"Have you seen _her_ face?" Ginny asked out of the blue, her thumb indicating the spot where a mere moment ago Amanda had stood.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ginny. "Obviously not."

"She was _marvelling_ at your bum, Hermione," Ginny whispered, stretching the word.

"Oh…what?" Hermione felt her cheeks burn.

"Yes, you heard me."

"Grow up, Ginny!"

Amanda re-entered the room, balancing a platter in her hand. She placed the coffee in front of Ginny and two cookies on an extra plate beside it. Hermione turned around quickly. She was aware that _she_ was acting immature, so not appropriate of her position. She rummaged again in her file cabinet, grabbing any random folder and turning the pages.

"Great service," Ginny said kindly. "Thank you. Oh, Amanda," she went on. Hermione closed her eyes and wished the ground to open beneath her. _Ginny, stop it!_ she prayed.

"Yes?"

"I thought you're free on every Monday morning? It's not even after lunch yet," Ginny spoke. She made a sound like she was sipping at her coffee.

"Oh," Amanda said with a smile in her voice, "I always come early. But usually I wait downstairs in the lobby. There's a great cafeteria."

"So you came early today on purpose," Ginny reiterated. Hermione fought the urge not to throw a folder at her friend's head. What the heck was she insinuating this time?

"Yes, because I was reviewing legal publications for this afternoon's meeting, and I finished a few drafts for Miss Granger," Amanda qualified.

"Hermione must be lucky to have you," Ginny concluded.

"Ginny," Hermione managed to groan, hoping Ginny heard the dangerous warning in her voice. She slammed the drawer shut and opened the lower one, and continued her search there, except that she wasn't really searching for something.

_Turn around and throw Ginny out!_ called a voice in her mind, _oh she's so dead!_

"Actually," Amanda said softly. "I am the lucky one."

Hermione dropped the folder she was reading—holding, whatever—and bent down quickly to gather the papers. Amanda was at her side immediately, reaching for the papers as well.

"I'll get that," she said before Hermione had a chance to react. Like last Friday, she was like paralysed. She handed the folder, with the papers inside arranged in proper order, back to Hermione.

"Thank you," she mumbled, frowning at the folder. She returned it to the file cabinet. When she heard Amanda leave the room, Hermione spun around, her eyes instantly on Ginny's face. She was nibbling on her cookie, looking innocent.

"You should go for it, Hermione," Ginny suddenly suggested. "She _was_ marvelling at your bum."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione sighed long-sufferingly, releasing the breath she had been holding since Amanda had walked in, and dropped in her leather chair. Ginny had lost her mind, she decided.

"You know what a friend once told me?" Ginny said self-assuredly, ignoring Hermione. "You never know what will be—" she smirked, adding, "—until you try."


	4. Don't Wear Suggestive Clothing

**09/14/2010 EDIT: My Thanks to morgana67, who helped me out on legal information regarding divorce issues. She beta'ed the second part of this chapter, since I felt too shy to submit the whole chapter. lol**

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Rule Number 4: Don't Wear Suggestive Clothing **

_PRESENT: 5 WEEKS AFTER THE NIGHT CLUB_

Hermione watched with wonderment and fascination Amanda from behind as the legal secretary organised the folders in Hermione's file cabinet. The young woman wore a tight-fitting midnight blue office outfit, which accentuated her hourglass body figure. Her skirt was too short, barely covering her toned thighs and voluptuous hips. No unsightly blemishes whatsoever were on the exposed skin, or uneven and irregular angles, nothing that particularly stood out, or overshadowed another feature of her body. Her legs were smooth-looking, flawless even, that it had Hermione left wondering whether this woman was wearing stockings of fine silk or if her skin plainly looked like silk.

Whenever Amanda stretched an arm upward to reach the folders from the higher shelves, more skin of her lean legs was exposed, leaving a little to the imagination.

Amanda had always been excessively vain when it came to her physical appearance, Hermione realised now, thinking how neat and fresh Amanda always appeared at work. But of course as a legal secretary she must be highly presentable because she was dealing and interacting with clients, solicitors, and other office staff. That was why Hermione almost did not recognise her secretary when she had met her by accident at the Night Club.

Conjuring a ladder to place a carton box on the top of the cabinet, Amanda stretched further upward, her calf muscles tensing and relaxing with each of her movement. Even though Hermione had advised Amanda many times that it would be more convenient and even faster when she'd use magic, Hermione wasn't completely opposed to the view that was presented to her, and hence, she didn't say anything this time.

Hermione brushed the feather of her quill against her lips, her thoughts straying to the night five weeks ago, when Amanda had given her that very sensual kiss. Now she imagined what it would have been like if she had placed her hands on Amanda's bum to feel its tightness and roundness, to have one hand roam upward her chest to cup a handful of her—

A loud rumble caused Hermione to jump in shock, instantly snapping her back from her perverted imagination with her very own secretary. She felt her face flush and hoped that she hadn't been too obvious. Dropping her head, Hermione feigned busyness as she shuffled through her papers and pretended to write. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Amanda was now picking up the scattered legal journals and folders from the ground.

She didn't seem to have notice anything. Hermione sighed and closed her eyes.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, lifting her head.

"No, I'm fine. Just the box slipped from my hands. I'm sorry," Amanda said, her cheeks crimson as she re-sorted the papers back in their respective folders, her eyes moving quickly as she read through the various files, completely absorbed in her task. She was mumbling underneath her breath as if berating herself for being clumsy, while nervously tucking loose curls behind her ear.

There was something captivating about this image, watching Amanda on her knees, crawling on the ground as her skirt moved further up her thighs—Hermione couldn't help but _gape_ at her like some obnoxious dog.

She had, of course, noticed Amanda's appeal on men, and the envious glances of other women in the office, but she, Hermione, remained rather unaffected by that charm. Now—two kisses later, Hermione mused—it was different, and she couldn't tell why. It didn't make any sense.

It was just a kiss. Just that. Nothing more. Hermione wondered if this could still be considered as curiosity about the female's appearance—because Amanda was a feast for the eyes—or if she now actually wanted tactile experience with another woman's body. All this ignited by a simple kiss five weeks ago? Amanda, as drunk as she had been that fateful night, didn't even remember the kiss—a saving grace, indeed. But it made matters worse.

About a week passed since Hermione had very spontaneously invited Amanda to her flat to talk with her about the 'First Kiss'. Hermione had planned the confrontation thoroughly and only waited for the right moment, but at the end it didn't work out as planned. It backfired on her.

If she had only known that Amanda had a blackout, and thus, no memory of the kiss, Hermione wouldn't have invited her over. Case closed. Unfortunately, Hermione couldn't know this. And she couldn't resist finding out more.

And then, at Hermione's flat, whatever it was, then—the wine, the right ambience, Amanda's eyes, her lips that looked so inviting—the urge to kiss Amanda once again was almost irresistible.

Hermione covered her eyes. _What the fuck was I thinking?_

Would it have been so hard if she had just asked Amanda straightforwardly, directly, and very frankly, why on Earth she'd kissed Hermione? It was a spur of the moment sort of, in a drunken state, out of sheer curiosity, perhaps; would it have changed anything between them? Young women her age play around, don't they? That's no big deal!

But why was she freaking out?

Because now…

Now Amanda was the one _preyed upon_; and Hermione the _wrongdoer_.

If only she hadn't listened to Ginny Weasley's 'words of wisdom' to deal with this dilemma. Ginny, of all people! Hermione remembered the conservation she had had with her friend some time between the First Kiss and the Second Kiss incident…

"You know, Hermione," Ginny had started, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder in a friendly manner, "if it's just a matter of getting-physical-with-another-woman kind of stuff, I'd shag you right now to show you. But unfortunately, it's not just about that."

"Ginny, _please_! We're in public," Hermione had hissed, ducking her head, "keep your voice down, will you? Besides, I don't think I want to get physical with her, for Heaven's sake. I only want to know why…"

"Why what?"

"Why I felt that way."

Hermione sighed at the memory.

Granted, Ginny was right about Amanda having a secret fancy for Hermione, and Hermione did, admittedly, enjoy the First Kiss; with that Second Kiss Hermione had implied that their feelings for each other were…mutual. And that was wrong. Very wrong. Because it wasn't true, was it? And being Amanda's employer Hermione could get them both in trouble.

Running a hand over her face, Hermione reminded herself again and again that she was unquestionably _not_ interested in nor attracted to other women.

But then she looked over to Amanda: her strawberry-blonde hair combed neatly and gleaming, a rosy blush on her cheeks, her lips formed to a smile as she looked curiously back at Hermione…

"Is everything all right, Miss Granger?" Amanda asked, looking half amused, half concerned. "You're making funny faces."

Hermione realised all of a sudden that the object of her recent fantasies had been staring at her…the whole. _Frigging._ Time. She felt her head heat up in embarrassment, and her quill fell to the ground.

"Huh?" Hermione uttered, very unprofessionally.

"Is there something on your mind? You looked thoughtful for a moment like something's bothering you," Amanda said over her shoulder as she placed a stack of old files inside a carton box and labelled it. She kept turning her head towards Hermione, the smile on her lips never wavering.

Hermione composed herself, took a deep breath, and resumed her professional role. "You ought to consider wearing something more appropriate for work. This is a law office, not the Agency for the _PlayWitch_ magazine," she said in her authoritative voice, resuming on working on the outline of a divorce procedure. She bent down to retrieve her quill from under her chair in an attempt to hide her flushed face.

"Have you been able to conduct the research I've asked you to? The report ought to be submitted to me this afternoon."

"Yes, ma'am, I'll submit it as soon as possible," Amanda said in a low voice, the smile on her lips disappearing. She transferred the heavy folders in an empty box, not saying anything further.

Hermione knew that Amanda was clearly not used to Hermione's reproaches, or the stern voice, or the sudden coldness with which Hermione had treated her the past few days, to avoid awkward situations. Because despite of them merely having a professional relationship, Hermione had been always nice and friendly to Amanda. There was hardly ever anything to complain about her. But now, Hermione was making Amanda feel bad, punishing and blaming her for the confusion she was causing in Hermione.

"Argh!" Hermione groaned loudly, unable to focus on her task. When Amanda gave her another puzzled look, Hermione said quickly, "I—uh, have to re-write this." Though, all that she'd written so far was the date and her client's name.

With one arm carrying the folders and her free hand pulling her skirt further down, Amanda said, seeming rather self-conscious now as she looked down at herself then back to Hermione, "I feel so silly, Miss Granger, I always thought that you liked my outfits," she said sadly, her cheeks rosier now than they had previously been, "wasn't blue your favourite colour, Miss Granger?"

Hermione gave her bewildered look, wondering briefly if they were seriously discussing fashion and her favourite colour now. "Blue? Yes, I love blue, but…" She scanned her eyes up and down the full length of Amanda's body—there was a new smile on the younger woman's lips, a playful smirk—then it slowly dawned in upon Hermione why her secretary was clad in a blue sexy office outfit.

"Wait a second," Hermione said, her cheeks growing warm again, "were you only trying to…impose me?"

Amanda smiled shyly, averting her eyes from Hermione. When she turned back, she nodded as if she'd realised something, she said almost confidently, coyly, "You did seem to enjoy the view a short moment ago, didn't you? You know, when you were watching me?"

Hermione let out a strained laugh that was close to a whimper, her face feeling hotter like on fire. Amanda's look made Hermione's legs give out and made her thankful she was sitting down. "I—I was, wait, you got me all wrong! I was only—"

"So cute if you blush," Amanda mumbled under her breath but it was loud enough for Hermione to hear. She looked briefly around, assuming her secretarial role again. "I was only teasing you, ma'am, relax. Is there anything else I can do for you, then? I think I'm done here now."

Hermione shook her head.

When Amanda left the room, Hermione leaned back in her seat and released a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. She was screwed! So damn screwed!

Because Amanda was aware now of the effect she had on Hermione.

*,*,*,*

Some time after lunch and another tedious and exhausting lawsuit, Hermione slammed her office door shut, and slumped down on her leather chair. A few minutes later even before she could take a deep breath, a knock emanated from the door.

"I suppose 'Congratulations' is in order," said the man in greeting, striding in as in as if he owned the place.

"Sir, excuse me," Amanda called from behind him, "but you don't have an appointment."

Hermione looked up to see Blaise Zabini's beaming face, as he dropped on the smaller leather chair in front of her desk. There was a smirk on his face as he watched Amanda at the doorway.

"It's fine, he can stay," Hermione said, glaring at Zabini. "I might spare a few minutes."

"All right, ma'am," Amanda said, "Anything I could offer you, sir? Some drinks, perhaps?"

"No, thanks, sweetheart," Zabini said, winking.

Once Amanda closed the door behind her, Zabini turned around and said, "Well, Granger, congrats again on your latest success! Hermione Granger, the infallible matrimonial solicitor. You must be proud of yourself."

He was referring to the Williams in which Hermione had managed to obtain a very advantageous financial settlement for her client despite the complexity of the case. Even Hermione had to admit to herself that she had been surprised at this result. She also marvelled at how her client's now ex-husband hadn't seemed perturbed by having lost a great deal of wealth and haven't even fought for custody or their only child. In fact, he had sounded almost relieved.

"Zabini," Hermione said genuinely surprised, massaging her temples, "to what do I owe the honour of this visit? And make it quick, I have to prepare for a meeting."

"My, my," Zabini said, shaking his head, "can an old friend of yours not visit you for private reasons?"

"Old friend? Did you mistake the office building?" Hermione scoffed, raising a brow. "By the way, I've been trying to Floo you but your floo network has been for some reason inaccessible for weeks," she said, "And now that I do have neither the time nor the patience to attend you, you expect me to have this conversation with you?"

"You haven't lost your charm, have you, eh?" he asked, clearly amused. He loosened the knot of his tie that matched his grey suit, and fanned his face with the case folder he was holding. "I haven't been in the office lately. Unless you arranged an appointment with my secretary, for which case I'd have been there. By the way," Zabini said with a nod towards the door, "So, that's her? The rumoured beauty? I'd certainly be more motivated coming to work if a sexy lass like her was working for me."

Hermione rolled her eyes and groaned in frustration, "Zabini, for starters, grow up! You're not seventeen anymore, secondly, you're married, and thirdly, what the heck do you want?"

"Believe it or not, but I'm here to ask Your Highness for help," Zabini said, mimicking Hermione by rolling his eyes. He leaned back in his chair coolly, then he threw the case folder onto Hermione's desk.

When Hermione threw a look at it, the picture on the first page instantly made her blood freeze. "Draco Malfoy?"

"Yup, him again," Zabini remarked, rubbing thoughtfully at his goatee. "I know you dealt with his case last time, except that that time his spouse did not agree to the divorce claims, thus, the divorce has been contested. The petition hasn't been renewed since then. Now he's filing for a new one, so he came to me, with valid grounds."

"I see, and now you're seeking professional advice from me," Hermione ventured, chuckling just to mock him.

"Don't be silly," grunted Zabini. He stood up and began pacing up and down the room, looking thoughtful. "Unfortunately, as his best mate, I know his personal reason why the arse is doing this." He threw Hermione a fleeting glance, then added, "And as his lawyer, I'm bound to professional secrecy, you might be aware of that."

"Of course," Hermione drawled, restraining the urge to roll her eyes again, "Go on."

"Listen carefully," Zabini went on; he looked exhausted all of a sudden, Hermione noticed, "Astoria, his wife, she's a good-damn person, and I've known her since Hogwarts, I know her personally. She's the best thing that ever happened to him. Now Draco is an arse—guess we've covered that already—but he's a good man, too, if he chooses to be. I'm talking here as a concerned friend of them both, not as his lawyer, bear that in mind. As his lawyer, however, I can't turn him down. As his friend, I want to."

"Come to the point, Zabini," Hermione said impatiently.

"Are you in a relationship right now?" he asked, out of the blue.

"What? Why do you ask?" Hermione replied indignantly, "Honestly, you're wasting my time, and I have to go."

"No, wait, please. It's relevant, Granger," Zabini said, almost beseeching, "Look, he will get in touch with you. I know he will, because he's doing this… oh blimey! How do I put this?"

"Will you please just proceed," Hermione said, looking at her wristwatch to signify that he was wasting her precious time.

"You have to turn him down," he finally said.

"Turn…him down?" Hermione repeated, dumbfounded, "All right, what on Earth are you talking about?"

"Granger," Zabini sighed, walking back to Hermione's desk with two long strides, his hands flat on her table, "I'm risking my job here just to save that moron's marriage, and I'm making myself a fool for coming here and asking you of all people for a favour." Then he went on, his voice a low, strained whisper, "He wants you, and he's gonna abandon his pregnant wife for you. He's always wanted you, ever since you shagged each other senseless back in Hogwarts. Yeah, don't give me that look; I know all about that. And he's gonna come back to you. You have to turn him down, make him clear that he hasn't got a chance with you. Can you do that, Granger? Can you?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. Of all things, this wasn't what she had expected to hear.

"Look, he's stubborn, an idiot; he won't give up once he set his mind to something. Whether he's just out for great sex, I don't know!" he laughed maniacally, giving Hermione a look as if he wanted to figure out himself. Then he shivered and pulled a face.

"Arse-face!" Hermione muttered.

Throughout Hermione's school year and her career as a lawyer, having known Blaise Zabini for so long and as well on a professional basis, she had never seen him stoop so low as to begging Hermione Granger, the very girl he used to taunt as a teenager, before. She had never seen him beg. Period. And he was doing this for the sake of his two friends, Draco and Astoria.

"For all I care, tell him that you're married or something," Zabini suggested, "or…or that you have a boyfriend. Wait, that won't hinder him either, because he's a pro at stealing a man's girlfriend after all." He looked thoughtful for a moment, rubbing at his neck gingerly, "I'm exhausted, Granger, I'm at my limits end. How should I ever face Astoria again?"

Gathering her thoughts, Hermione managed to speak at last, still feeling incredulous about the sudden turn of events, "What makes you think that I'd give into him? Are you really sure that that's what he wants? Me? That's ridiculous. Absurd! And I can't imagine that he's going to leave his pregnant wife. He might be a spoiled prat, a prick, but he's not that kind of an arsehole."

"He doesn't know about the pregnancy," Zabini said, dropping on the chair behind him, "I only found out a week ago when I met up with her to discuss the divorce petition. She doesn't want to tell him about the pregnancy. According to her if he ever decides to change his mind, then it shouldn't be because of their child. She doesn't want to trap him in an unhappy

marriage just to fulfil his obligations. Of course he'd stay for that reason, but having a child mixed up in this mess would make matters worse, and that's not what she wants."

"If he doesn't love her—" Hermione began, but was cut off by Zabini.

"He still does, he said it himself. Dunno why he must always do this, y'know, ruin everything that's already perfect," Zabini said, shaking his head in incomprehension. "He's changed a lot ever since he lost his mother, while his father is still in Azkaban."

"I heard about that," Hermione replied, biting her lower lip. "All right, I'll see what I can do. I wouldn't have given into him anyway, just so you know," she repeated once again, "He's a married man, after all. And the biggest prick I know."

"Oh, yeah?" Zabini sneered, "Then please, enlighten me, Granger, how in Merlin's name did he manage to bed you back in Hogwarts?"

Hermione closed her eyes as a wave of guilt and shame overwhelmed her. Her only response was to chuckle awkwardly. "All right, I got it!" she groaned. Why admitting that she had been in love with Draco back then. It would only complicate everything.

A knock at the door and Amanda came in, carrying a folder in her hand. "Sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but here's the legal report you requested earlier."

As she leaned against the desk to present it in front of Hermione, she brushed Hermione's hand. The room was quiet as Hermione skimmed over the report, ignoring the sweet scent of perfume in the air.

"It looks fine," Hermione commented. "You might want to go over this part, though. Have you verified the client's data?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Amanda, beaming, eyes soft as she looked at Hermione.

"Well done, then."

Amanda took back the folder from Hermione. "Oh," she said, spotting something at Hermione's head as she reached a hand forward. Hermione inwardly tensed up when she felt the brush of Amanda's hand lightly against her hair, "You have something in your hair, Miss Granger, hold still. There, was just lint." Then she smiled, and left the office quickly.

Hermione glanced back at Zabini, who was resting in his chair with a smug smile upon his face. She saw the same look that she had seen on Ginny's face before—that _knowing_ look. His smile stretching wider when Hermione felt her cheeks blush.

But Hermione chose to misunderstand him, and frowned. "Zabini, do I have to remind you once again that you're married? Besides, you might not be her type, anyway," she said, jeering.

To Hermione's surprise, Zabini began to beam all over his face, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin.

"But _you_ seem to be her type, Granger," he enunciated, leaning forward, "You said you're going to help me out with Draco's case, right? I think I just got an idea."


	5. Don't Stalk Your Boss

**A/N: Yes, I managed to update faster this time! :) This chapter might be longer than my previous ones, but I hope that's okay? I added a bit of background story to the Dramione ship so that Draco won't be entirely OOC in this story. **

**There's also a bit of Ginny/Hermione towards the end, but don't get your hopes up for that pairing. They won't develop any romantic feelings for each other in this story. :)  
**

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter characters. I own anything else that you don't recognize. **

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Rule Number 5: Don't Stalk Your Boss**

"All right, tell me again," Ginny sighed lazily from Hermione's couch, flipping through a magazine that lay on the coffee table, "when did pompous Malfoy become such an obsessive stalker? I thought a meaningless one-night-stand back at Hogwarts was all there ever was between the two of you?"

"Ginny, _please_!"

Hermione shivered at the memory. With her back turned to her friend, she stared through her curtains towards the street, feeling as though she was being watched. She had a perfect view of the London Bridge, with all its lights illuminating and sparkling, brighter than the stars at the night sky. The water of the Thames was clear and dark and reflected the lights of the bridge. Her office was just amidst the other buildings on the other side of the London Bridge, in Southwark, and getting there in time despite the daily traffic jam wasn't an issue if you can perform magic and Apparate.

In the four days since Zabini's unexpected visit to her office, a lot had happened. Draco Malfoy showed up. Draco had sent several Owls to her, and when Hermione disregarded them, he appeared at her office personally and waited hours in her waiting room.

Hermione's mouth literally fell open when she found him sitting in her waiting room, drinking a cup of coffee and smirking behind it. Physically, he hadn't changed at all since she last saw him at his mother's funeral two years ago. He still looked very attractive, Hermione admitted to herself, so masculine, and well-groomed.

He was dressed nicely in a white long-sleeved shirt and khaki pants. His skin was pale and smooth-looking. His lips was curved to that arrogant smirk that Hermione wished to slap off of his face like the last time in their third year, those same lips that once trailed kisses down her neck to tease her. His steel-grey eyes were captivating; there were the remnants of long buried hatred, spite, and detestation that they once felt for each other, that was soon replaced with desire, lust, and maybe love as the years flew by. And then, of course, the sadness, his disappointment in her, the pain; all that surfacing all at once when their eyes met. His light-blond hair had grown longer though, hanging in his eyes as he pushed his lower lip forward to blow them away.

For a moment Hermione was enthralled by his sight, remembering all the bitter-sweet memories she had shared with him and almost smiled, but then Amanda stepped in her line of vision. Her head was tilted to the side; she was looking curiously at Hermione, then frowned a little when she looked back to Draco. And Hermione had never seen Amanda frown before.

Before heading off to her next client, Hermione had instructed Amanda to inform Draco about her extremely tight schedule and therefore would not be able to hold a meeting with him for the rest of the day, and the upcoming weeks. Amanda looked almost gleeful when she sent Draco out of the office.

Then, the next day, Draco had waited in the lobby for her, even followed her to her flat, and knocked in the middle of the night at her door. Being a bit frightened though she knew that Draco wouldn't hurt her, Hermione had asked Ginny to stay over. But Ginny was living with Harry and of course it would arouse suspicion when Ginny stayed every night over at Hermione's place for no apparent reason, and the last thing she wanted was to involve Harry in this complicated situation. Because if Harry knew about this, then certainly Ron would find out soon enough, too, and that would only mean unnecessary trouble.

"Hermione, you okay?" Ginny asked from behind her, pulling Hermione back from her worried thoughts.

Instead of giving an answer, Hermione walked to her bedroom and looked through her drawers.

"What's wrong?" Ginny called after her.

"Just hold on a second," Hermione called back.

When she returned, she held a shoebox in her hand, and placed it in front of Ginny on the couch. As Hermione opened the lid and pulled out a handful of letters, Ginny's eyes set to a confused frown, taking a letter and reading it. When she was done, she picked up another, her lips curving to an amused smile.

"Malfoy wrote you all these love letters?" Ginny asked in wonder, stifling a laugh behind her hand.

"God, no, they aren't love letters, Ginny!" Hermione snapped, feeling her cheeks blush.

Taking in a deep breath, she told Ginny that Draco had been writing her the whole time since they left Hogwarts, even when he started dating a Muggle-born just to prove her a point, that the woman could have been _her_, that he wasn't afraid anymore. He even wrote her years later when he got married to Astoria, and then throughout his marriage. He kept Hermione on update about his life, sharing _everything_, giving far more detail than she really cared to know.

Thinking back, when they were still together, during their midnight encounters at Hogwarts he never did anything remotely like letting his guards down, divulging his secrets, sharing his problems, nothing that was personal that would have made him more _human_ in her eyes.

When did he turn over a new leaf and actually became the person she had wished him to be?

All their meetings merely constituted of making out, heated and passionate groping, but most often fights and hurtful name-calling.

Then his mother passed away and he invited her to come to the funeral.

"It was all over the Daily Prophet, about Narcissa Malfoy's death," Ginny said in sympathy, knowing the pain when losing a beloved family member. She opened another envelope and pulled out the letter, asking casually, "How did he react though, when you didn't show?"

Hermione returned to the window, crossing her arms. "I lied, Ginny. I did show up," she admitted in one breath, "But I didn't want Ron finding out, I didn't want to hurt him unnecessarily. How could I possibly refuse Draco, though? Even Astoria begged me to come; she said she couldn't comfort Draco, that he was devastated. Attending the funeral and comforting a grieving, well, ex boyfriend over his mother's death was a natural thing to do, I didn't think too much of it."

"Well, I understand if you lied to my brother," Ginny said, just a little put out, "but you could've at least told _me_, you know. So, what happened then? When you saw each other again?"

"Hmm?" Hermione looked over her shoulder to Ginny, who dug her hand inside the shoebox and shuffled through the letters. She wasn't sure whether she could tell Ginny the whole truth now; it was still very personal. But having kept everything inside her over the years had become a growing burden that she couldn't carry alone any longer, she possibly had no other choice.

Ginny looked up when Hermione hesitated, and whatever it was on Hermione's face—the strained, pained smile, or the tears that now streaked down her cheeks, or her blushed face—that betrayed her, Ginny suddenly knew.

"Oh, no…" Ginny heaved a sigh, her shoulders sagging, "You didn't! Tell me you didn't!"

"It just happened," Hermione said lamely, shamefully, and disgusted at herself. She covered her eyes and wept. "Oh, God, how could I do that? Why did I do that?" She felt more tears running down her cheeks, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Ginny stood up and walked to her, taking her into a tight hug. "Stupid," she said softly into Hermione's hair, stroking her back. "You're so stupid!"

Ginny shifted a little, pulling Hermione away. "Hermione," she said, "reading some of his letters, it seems like you wrote him back, too."

Hermione nodded as she wiped angrily at her eyes.

"Can I take it then," Ginny said quietly, almost anxious at Hermione's answer, "that you've been…in love with him all these years?"

"Goodness, Ginny," Hermione laughed through her tears, "would I have dated him for two years and a half and lied to my friends or gone to bed with him if I wasn't in love with him?"

"Two years and a half? Wow!" Ginny leant her forehead against Hermione's, wiping her tears away. "You fooled us all, silly," she said, shaking her head.

Hermione looked away, nodding. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I betrayed you, what kind of a friend am I? How disloyal of me—a Gryffindor, dated a Slytherin. Draco Malfoy of all people! Ron and Harry despised him, I pretended to hate him, but secretly I—I…"

"—you shagged," Ginny finished, chortling. Hermione scowled, but couldn't deny it. "You know, Hermione, we have to catch up on that. I need to know every detail, when and how it started, why you fell in love with the ferret, how the sex was. Can't believe you've been bedded before me!" said Ginny, sounding both stunned and impressed. "I had my first time with Harry when I already left Hogwarts. Hmpf, I'm blaming Harry for that."

"Ginny," Hermione groaned, pulling away from her friend's arms. "Can we please not talk about Draco? However amazing of a lover he may be, I don't want to remember."

Ginny's eyes lit up, her grin growing. "Okay, go on," she said eagerly.

"What do we do now with him?" Hermione asked to change the topic quickly. "What if he comes back again? Should I really follow Zabini's crazy, and absurd and very juvenile advice? The reason why he's probably suggested that was just to get turned on by the idea of Amanda and I making out or something. I doubt he was really serious."

Hermione felt uncomfortable at the mere thought of being with another woman, but her head filled with heat when this woman took the form of Amanda. She turned away from Ginny, who giggled amusedly beside her. "I should go to Malfoy and just talk to him, try to get through him that he better stay with his wife. That's what I'll do and keep Amanda out of this," Hermione declared obstinately.

"Sure, try it; talk some sense into Malfoy," Ginny said, "meet up with him, in some hotel, perhaps. If you think you can be trusted to be alone with him, resist him and keep your hands off of him unlike the last time you met—" she lifted her hands to draw quotation marks in mid-air, "—to 'comfort' him, then it won't be a problem."

Hermione covered her blushed face, feeling guilty.

"You can take Amanda with you, you know, just like you'd take her as your secretary to a meeting or a conference," Ginny suggested, "without having to explain the whole situation, as long as she acts like your 'little sweetheart'."

"Oh, God, kill me!" Hermione whined, "Just be there when I ask her, all right?"

Ginny patted her shoulder reassuringly, saying smugly, "Don't worry, I'll be there to make sure the situation won't be too awkward for you."

*,*,*,*

The next day, Hermione stared outside the café window, sighting Amanda from across the street as she jogged over to the café, where she and Ginny sat waiting. Instantly, her breath caught up, and then panic took over. She still hadn't wrapped her mind around the idea that she experienced an attraction to another woman, or rather, to Amanda who she had known for seven months now without having ever acknowledged the beauty everybody was talking about. She even barely knew her on a personal level.

Was Hermione so sex deprived that a simple kiss—and unfortunately from another woman—was causing her to feel this confusion?

Amanda was elegantly dressed, as usual, her sultry strawberry-blonde waves was pulled up with a clip at both sides of her head, while the afternoon sun was shining on her face. She looked marvellous.

"Ouch, damnit, Hermione," Ginny cried out, "that hurts. Let go off me!"

Realising that she was grasping Ginny's lower arm and squeezing it hard, she let go, and chuckled nervously.

"I can't believe I agreed to this," she whimpered. "To hell with Zabini, to hell with Malfoy! Blimey, what if she has a boyfriend? I know nothing about her except the little background information I got from her employee file. I'll only embarrass myself and this'll just add up to the already awkward tension between us," she rambled, grasping a bunch of her hair.

"Shut up now, it's too late anyway," Ginny groaned, sipping her butterbeer leisurely. "Even Zabini noticed how Amanda's been doting on you, and he's not the most perceptive person I know to notice human emotions. He's a fucking Divorce Lawyer, after all." Noticing Hermione's scowl, Ginny laughed nervously and cringed. "Of course, you're different!" She patted Hermione's hand, and squeezed it once.

Outside the café, Amanda threw a quick look at her handy mirror, licked her lips and smiled contently as if she was practicing a perfect smile before entering the café. She took a deep breath when she pushed open the door, and let her eyes wander in search for Hermione. She seemed rather uncomfortable with herself, almost anxious and the total opposite of what she usually was when in front of Hermione. Once she caught Hermione's eye, she walked over to her with her shoulders pushed back, displaying the smile she had practiced outside.

She greeted Hermione and Ginny in her cheerful voice, apologising for her tardiness, that she didn't know this place well to Apparate, and therefore had to take the bus, which she'd missed due to some familiar problem at home. She was really bubbly and so talkative, Hermione realised and smiled. Amanda dropped her head as her cheeks blushed.

"I'm really sorry, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley," she said at last.

Ginny waved a hand, saying, "Don't worry, it's all right. And please, call me Ginny."

Amanda nodded, planting herself down opposite to them. "So, what's the matter? I was worried coming here; you've never Owled me at my home address before, Miss Granger. And never on a Sunday, that is." She let out a soft but nervous giggle, and dropped her head when neither Ginny nor Hermione responded. Maybe the same question popped in her mind: Why Hermione would ever Owl her at her home address, unless it was an emergency. She took the menu card and flipped through it, occasionally trying to sneak looks at Hermione.

"Don't be rude, Hermione," Ginny muttered, nudging her in the side. Hermione started and frowned at Ginny. "Say something. I'll be right back; washrooms," Ginny said, standing up.

"Hold on, I have to go, too," Hermione said hastily.

By placing her hands on Hermione's shoulders Ginny pushed her back down. "You can go afterwards, talk to her," she said in a low voice, squinting at Amanda, who was now immersed in a conversation with the waiter. "Stay here."

Amanda was talking with the waiter politely, passing her orders as he flirted with her while she seemed rather oblivious. He asked her if it was her first time in this café for he had never seen her around before, while offering the various specialties on the menu just to prolong the conversation. Amanda made a gesture towards Hermione, explaining that she had a meeting with her boss, and thus, no time for chitchat. The waiter threw an accusing look at Hermione before he turned and left.

"Seriously, it took Ginny and I forever until he noticed us to take our orders," Hermione mumbled behind her glass.

Amanda laughed with a melodious sound in her voice, shrugging as if it was a natural occurrence in her life to have the males' attention on her. Not that she was being conceited; she seemed rather bothered by that.

"So, what's the deal, Miss Granger? This is obviously not a date," she joked, arching her brows, "I assume it's about work business?"

Hermione disregarded the question and looked out for Ginny. "Maybe we should eat first?" she suggested, forcing out a smile that made Amanda blush further before she looked away and studied her fingernails.

When Ginny finally returned from the washrooms, she smiled smugly at Hermione before pushing her further inside the booth so that she sat closer to Amanda. Hermione rolled her eyes and glared at her friend, kicking her under the table.

"Ouch," Ginny cried, rubbing her knee.

"Don't be immature," hissed Hermione.

The waiter came with their drinks, serving Amanda first but not without winking down at her. He placed the two plates in front of Hermione and Ginny, and asked Amanda again if she would like to order something to eat. Amanda shook her head and looked away, clearly irritated that he was being persistent.

"You on diet, Amanda?" Ginny asked once the waiter left, cutting her steak eagerly.

"No, just…I already ate at home," she explained, not looking at Ginny but at Hermione.

Averting her eyes, Hermione looked down at her plate, trying to find something interesting on the fish that was bedded in salad and potato, garnished with a slice of lemon.

"Me, too, actually," Ginny said, shoving a forkful of meat in her mouth, "but Hermione can't eat if not everybody's eating. It makes her feel self-conscious."

Hermione groaned in exasperation, but said nothing.

"Oh, I see," Amanda said, taking the menu card, "I can order a salad." After looking in her purse first, she waved for the waiter. A moment later he appeared beside her, grinning, and she returned a smile that seemed rather forced as she passed her order.

"If you're worried about the prices, this treat goes on Hermione," Ginny said with a gesture of her hand. "So, feel free to order anything you want."

"Oh, God, no, I can't accept that," Amanda said, giggling nervously, "it's okay, I'm really not hungry. But you can start eating now, Miss Granger, really, it's fine. My salad will be here any minute."

Hermione smiled back. "It's fine, I'll wait so we can start together."

An awkward silence passed, then, "Merlin! Want me to leave you two alone?" Ginny suggested teasingly, slurping her butterbeer. "Just kidding. Ouch, what was that for?" She rubbed the spot where Hermione pinched her, giving her a scowl. "How will I explain to Harry where I got all the bruises from, huh?"

"Then cut it out," Hermione spat through her teeth, her head tilted towards Ginny so that Amanda couldn't see the threatening look she was giving her friend.

Amanda laughed, looking from Ginny to Hermione. She had her chin on her folded hands, watching the scene in front of her with great interest until the waiter came with her salad.

Their meal was long finished and they were drinking gillywater and butterbeer in the late afternoon, when Ginny finished her tale about how her team won the last Quidditch match against New Zealand. They talked mostly about Quidditch, which seemed to be Amanda's favourite sport, Hermione realised, even though she never played herself, then about Hogwarts, work, and the latest on-sale outfits in the stores. Hermione just sat there, listening and nodding courteously, while trying to ignore that Amanda's elbow had been brushing against hers the whole time.

Surfeited, Ginny patted her belly and took Hermione's wrist to read the time on her wristwatch. "Fuck, it's late," she announced, gathering her purse and robe, "Harry'll be waiting. You'll be okay, right?"

"Ginny, wait," Hermione cried, her hand shooting up to grasp Ginny's arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh, home?"

"You can't leave now. We haven't even brought up the subject yet that we wanted to talk with her about."

"You know, it might be better if I leave you alone with her, because it seems like you keep tensing up whenever I say and do something wrong," Ginny murmured, easing off Hermione's fingers from her sleeve, "C'mon, she won't bite you," she said, then leaned in to whisper, "—unless you want her to." She winked and pulled away quickly before Hermione could smack her.

Hermione felt her head heat up, her jaw ajar, and looked at Amanda, who was restraining herself to smile. She looked confused and amused.

"Bye, got to go," Ginny said, waving, and blowing Hermione a kiss as she headed off to the door.

"The hell with you!" Hermione cursed, pursing her lips.

"It impresses me how 'different' you are outside the office, Miss Granger, and I mean 'different' in a good way," Amanda pointed out, her smile reaching her eyes, "so playful, and sweet, and yet very aggressive. It's giving your personality another dimension."

"Oh," Hermione said, embarrassed, realising too late that she seemed to have fallen back into being a bitchy teenager instead of a mature woman who found such behaviour inappropriate especially when around other people. She really ought to behave in a manner befitting her position, someone Amanda seemed to respect dearly and looked up to. "Sorry 'bout that. It's just, Ginny drives me crazy sometimes that I lose control of myself," she admitted, drawing circles on the table with her index finger.

"Nah, it's okay if you lose control once in a while and…just be yourself, y'know, and loosen up," Amanda said good-naturedly. Hermione looked up to see if the statement was a generalisation or if Amanda was actually referring to earlier incidents between them, but then she added quickly, waving a hand, "Landon is just like that sometimes, y'know, and even though I love him to pieces he annoys the hell out of me, and I curse and swat him, but only playfully of course." She laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners at the mention of this _Landon_.

Dabbing with the napkin her lips, Hermione dropped her eyes to the table. "I see," she said, then looked at her wristwatch and faked a shock surprise, exclaiming, "Oh darn, it's gotten really late, and I still have to meet with a client."

"But today's Sunday," Amanda said matter-of-factly, looking confused.

"Yeah, but I arranged a meeting for today, since my schedule is overloaded on weekdays," Hermione explained without looking at Amanda, belatedly realising that she was trying to fool the person who was actually in charge of all her schedules, and thus knew that she was lying. "Oh darn!" she said, biting her bottom lip.

Amanda sighed her understanding, reached a hand forward to brush the back of her fingers against Hermione's cheek gently. "Don't need to get upset," she said, "I just thought you'd wanted to speak with me about something."

Hermione felt her cheek burn. "I—It's no longer necessary."

Standing up quickly and leaving the money for the bill on the table, she hurried to the door and left Amanda flabbergasted on her seat.

*,*,*,*

"She has a boyfriend?" Ginny exclaimed in disbelief, "But it can't be. She's so into you!"

Right after their dinner, Hermione had Apparated to Harry and Ginny's flat, and even though Ginny's excuse had been Harry waiting for her at home, he wasn't there yet. He went out with Ron and his brothers, maybe hanging out in some bars and getting drunk.

Their flat was bigger than Hermione's, designed in red and white furniture and a black leather couch and two sofas near the fireplace. There was a glass cabinet with Ginny's Quidditch trophies, while all of Harry's achievements were plastered along the wall, from medals to award and all kinds of certifications. They each had an own bedroom, a study room, not to mention the kitchen that was twice as big as Hermione's.

"I didn't ask if it was her boyfriend," Hermione conceded, pacing up and down the living room.

"Oh, Merlin, give me a break!" Ginny grunted, slipping down on the couch behind her. "Admit it, you only panicked because I left you alone with her. In Bloody Baron's name, Hermione, for all I care, _order_ her to fuck you in front of Malfoy, if that'll help. And knowing that pretty flower, she'd obey and give you that huge cute smile she keeps throwing at you all the time, when she goes down…" Ginny cut off, chuckling when she caught Hermione's glare. "Just kidding."

"Ginny, please, have some respect," Hermione reprimanded her friend, grabbed a pillow and threw it at Ginny. With her skills as a professional Quidditch player, Ginny dodged the pillow with ease, and yawned to mock Hermione.

Hermione sank on the sofa behind her, exhausted, her eyes wandering towards the picture frames that were lying on the mantle of the chimney. There were pictures of Ginny's whole family, a single one of Charlie—Ginny's favourite brother—one with Harry and Ginny of their engagement three years ago, and one extra of just Hermione and Ginny.

"Did you really have to enlarge _that_ picture, Ginny?" Hermione asked, pulling a face, "I look horrible on that one."

"You always look horrible; deal with it," Ginny chortled, a smile in her voice.

"Well, thank you!" Hermione laughed, then added with a sly smirk, "Doesn't seem as though Draco and Amanda share your opinion." Remembering these two people again, Hermione's face fell, and she crept over to Ginny to put her head in her friend's lap. "Oh, what am I suppose to do with him, Ginny?"

"Look, it's not that you're asking her to provide you with pleasure for that would be immorally wrong, not to mention that you're both women," Ginny said, giggling, "You just gonna ask her for a simple favour. Merlin, that ain't so hard. Your heart's practically screaming for that woman! Ouch, stop pinching me. Pinch me again and I'll bite your ear off till you bleed!"

"You know what I've been wondering?" Hermione flipped on her back and stared sideways. "When Amanda and I kissed, it felt all tingly in my stomach, but I know I don't have desires for her 'in that way'. Is that normal when you kiss another woman…especially one you barely know?"

"Duh, how should _I_ know? Never kissed another woman throughout my entire life," said Ginny.

"And you never thought about it before? Ever?"

"Hermione, we are not teenagers anymore to experiment and play around, y'know?" Ginny shifted underneath Hermione, trying to push her off her lap. For once Hermione realised the seriousness in Ginny's voice. "It feels tingly in my stomach when Harry kisses me, so I guess you have to love the person you kiss, or at least be attracted to them."

Hermione sat up to face Ginny. "You're very confident with your sexuality, aren't you? Never had any doubts, right? That you like men…" She moved closer, boxing Ginny into the corner of the couch, and reached for her hand. "And kissing another girl is all right, isn't it? As long as you don't enjoy it TOO much and only do it when nobody's watching."

"Uh, guess so…"

"Good," Hermione said smugly, "then kiss me, Ginny, because that wouldn't be problem, would it?"

"What? Are you serious?"

"Pretty sure. Kiss me, just once."

"I—I don't think Harry wou—"

Hermione leaned in, pressing their lips together. At first she felt Ginny resisting underneath her, trying to struggle free from her grasp, trying to push her away. After a short moment, however, Ginny gave in and reluctantly returned the kiss. When Hermione pulled away, she saw that Ginny had her eyes still closed, out of breath, which made Hermione smile and giggle.

Then she sat up, still none the wiser. "Nothing," she concluded, toughing her lips. The confusion was still there. However 'okay' the kiss was with Ginny, it was nothing remotely close to the sensation she felt when kissing Amanda. "Figured it's not the gender I'm attracted to."

"Where the hell did you learn to kiss like that?" Ginny asked, looking stunned as she wiped her mouth and grimaced at Hermione. "You could've at least warned me, you know?"

"Oh come _on_, don't pretend as if you didn't like it. Anyway, I have to go. Will I see you tomorrow for lunch?" Straightening her skirt and combing her hair with her hand, Hermione stood up and walked to the door.

"Yeah, sure, if you insist."

Hermione smirked as she noticed that her friend still had a bewildered look on her face, then she laughed and left the flat.

When she arrived at the Apparition point of her apartment building, hushed voices and strained hisses caught her attention, and she looked up to see where the noises were coming from. At the other end of the dimly-lit hallway nearby the emergency door that was meant for Muggles living on this floor were two people, both tall, a man towering over a slightly shorter woman with wavy long hair.

Because of the distance, the woman's voice sounded muffled though the shrillness was still discernible, demanding. She tried pushing the man away, while the man just stood there like a stone wall, glaring down at her. He wouldn't budge, even from this distance Hermione noticed that his hands were clenched on his sides as if only years of practicing self-control had taught him to not hit women was keeping him from hitting her.

It seemed as though they weren't just in an argument, or had a lovers' tiff, but something else that Hermione couldn't quite figure out. She chose to ignore them at first, walking slowly to her door. Being familiar with this kind of situation from work, however, made her hesitate.

Before she knew, she called out, "Excuse me, can I help?"

Then both turned their faces just at the same time and they walked towards Hermione, hastily, with long strides. When the light hit their faces, Hermione gasped in surprise and shock once she recognised the two.

It was Draco, and the fuming woman was Amanda.

Hermione rummaged in her purse for her wand and key to unlock her door, in the hope to escape from this nightmare. She couldn't face either of them right now. Not now. But her hands were shaking, making it impossible to unlock her door.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she started and spun around.

"Didn't I tell you, TO FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE, you IDIOT?" she snarled, hoping to scare off Draco.

But the sight of a frightened Amanda interrupted her thoughts of various curses that she could use on Draco. That was Amanda's hand, and she staggered backward right into Draco's arms. And Draco, for some reason, placed a hand carefully on the small of her back as if it was an inborn reflex, some instinct, to protect women.

Seeing them in that close position together, Hermione couldn't tell whether she was jealous of Amanda…or of Draco.

"There, you heard her," he said scornfully to Amanda, his eyes fixed on Hermione's, "she said you should leave her alone."

* * *

**A/N: Please leave any comment below. I love reading them! :) Thanks to everyone who've left a comment so far, and/or added this to their favorite story and/or subscribed for an update! **


	6. Don't Lie To Your Boss

**A/N: Not sure if people are still reading this, but who know? I thought I owe you (or this story) an update. Enjoy.**

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**Chapter 6 – Rule Number 6: Don't Lie To Your Boss**

It cuts like razors if the one you'd been looking up to, admired and respected, snarls at you and looks at you with so much disdain in their eyes. Calling you an _idiot_!

Seventeen years of sadness filled Amanda's heart, and she remembered the same look given to her by her own mother.

"YOU IDIOT!" her mother's voice roared in her ears, "CAN'T YOU DO _ANYTHING_ RIGHT?"

"What, you failed your O.W.L.s? Even as a freakish witch you can't do anything right! You dumb idiot!" again, her mother, "Get out of my sight!"

_IDIOT!_

_Idiot! _

Even though her initial plan had been to save up some money first before moving out, the moment Amanda was of legal Wizarding age, right after she graduated from Hogwarts, she had moved out of her parents' home. No, not moved out. That would be an understatement. A lie.

Her mother had practically—and literally—kicked her out in the middle of the night, when seventeen-year-old Amanda was caught by her mother in bed with her boyfriend, Bradley, having sex in her parents' bedroom. Of all places. And drunk. What a disastrous scandal! And the entire neighbourhood had witnessed the scene when Amanda banged against the door, crying and begging her mother to let her in, wearing just a blanket around her bare torso.

She had been drinking with her boyfriend, celebrating her graduation, and when they got home, they fell over each other and ended up in bed together. Her parents had gone out, while her twin-brother, Landon, had stayed at the party which he and Amanda had attended together.

Once she had fallen asleep in exhaustion, she had awoken by a sudden and painful pull at her hair. The next thing she knew, she was outside on the street with Bradley in his boxers and pants clutched in his hands. At least he had the time to gather his clothes and was somewhat dressed.

He had placed his hand on the small of her back, kissing her hair. He had said, "You can live in with me."

Snatching back from the horrid, nightmarish memory, Amanda opened her eyes and felt the hand of her former boyfriend still gripping her waist. She looked up and saw grey irises, a smirk on that stubby face, and was for a moment confused.

Her eyes filled with tears and she pushed the man away.

_What am I doing here?_

Disoriented and looking around, she found the elevator doors down the corridor, headed towards them and pushed the buttons hastily.

"Amanda," a familiar voice called from behind her. She knew that voice. Turning around, she looked at Miss Granger's distressed face. "Wait, oh God, I'm so sorry, Amanda, please wait."

"I—I didn't mean to come here, Miss Granger. And I don't know why I did," Amanda said without looking at her boss, pressing the elevator buttons again as if by doing so would make the elevator come faster. Merlin, she hated Muggle inventions. They were slow and impractical in moments like this.

"No, wait, don't leave," Miss Granger said, grabbing her arm. "I'm sorry, I thought Draco was standing behind me." She frowned when she looked behind her where Mr. Malfoy stood waiting at her door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, smirking amusedly. Then she turned back to Amanda, smiling a little. "I didn't mean to snarl at you like that. Please, stay."

"Are you sure? I mean you have a visitor," Amanda scoffed and nodded towards Mr. Malfoy, smiling a bit wretchedly. "He's hot; you have an impeccable taste when it comes to men." Despite herself, she laughed softly behind her hand, though she had to admit that she meant it.

Draco Malfoy was a good-looking and attractive man, a heartthrob in his mid-twenties, no wonder Miss Granger was so infatuated with him even though she would never admit it. It was the blush upon her cheeks that betrayed her when Amanda caught her staring at Mr. Malfoy's picture the other day. Now he was finally here—in the flesh. And Miss Granger was begging her, Amanda, to stay.

"Amanda? Will you stay? _Please_?" Miss Granger said again, almost desperate. Even though Amanda didn't understand why, she couldn't refuse that cute look Miss Granger was giving her. And Miss Granger had never begged her like this before.

"All right," Amanda finally said.

For some reason, Miss Granger wouldn't let go of her hand when they walked back to her apartment door. With her free hand she rummaged in her purse for her key and wand, to unlock it in the Muggle way and then use magic to remove the locking spell.

Once the door was open, she pushed Amanda quickly inside and tried blocking the door when Mr. Malfoy was about to follow them inside. Putting one foot between the door crack, he groaned.

"Oh, Merlin, that's so mature of you, Granger, seriously," he said, shaking his head.

"Go—away!"

"No, we need to talk!"

"I said—No!"

There was some struggle and shoving from both sides of the door. Mr. Malfoy rather looked like this was all some childish joke, a game only _they_ understood, their teasing and playful actions. He tried poking Miss Granger so that she moved aside, while Miss Granger's cheeks were red in embarrassment or frustration, and she even laughed when Mr. Malfoy tickled her side.

"I'm serious, go away," she half-laughed, half-demanded.

It was quiet then, and they were talking in hushed voices, with Mr. Malfoy's face only partly visible through the door crack. It was obvious from the onset that they were so into each other.

Amanda looked away, feeling awkward.

_What am I doing here?_ she wondered again, dropping her gaze to the ground.

At last, Mr. Malfoy was inside, and Miss Granger was looking annoyed as she brushed her hand through her dishevelled hair.

Giving Amanda a courteous smirk that would have set most women's heart flattering—it didn't affect Amanda though—Mr. Malfoy went straight to the living room as if he owned the place.

"You have a new couch," he called from the living room after a short moment. "What's wrong with the old one?"

Miss Granger helped Amanda out of her robe, looking at her with that expression on her face as if to say, 'Save me!', then she called back to Mr. Malfoy, "I had to dispose of it. Too many bad memories."

"Yeah, 'three memories' in one night, if I recall," he said when he went back to the foyer, winking. He took both Miss Granger's and Amanda's robes to place them inside the cabinet, like a proper gentleman. Miss Granger swatted his arm for his remark.

"Would you help me in the kitchen, Amanda? Malfoy, do you want something to drink?"

"Anything's fine," he said curtly, walking back to the living room to look at the picture frames on the mantle above Miss Granger's fireplace.

Once they were alone in the kitchen, Miss Granger was shaking. She pulled out a glass from a cabinet and poured in water from the faucet, emptying its content with three big gulps.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" Amanda asked.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Hermione when we're at my place," she whispered, almost out of breath. She got two additional glasses and opened a bottle of gillywater from her refrigerator, and filled the glasses with it.

"Are you sure you want me to stay, Miss, uhm, Hermione? Because I don't really want to impose on you, you know, and—"

"No, it's alright. Please," Miss Granger—no, Hermione—said fiercely. "If anyone's waiting for you at home, send them an owl if you want. Just…don't leave me alone with him. I'm begging you."

Amanda arched an eyebrow at her boss' strange behaviour, fidgeting with her blouse. "Tell me what's going on, and I'll stay. Is something wrong? You look like you're about to cry, uhm, ma'am." she amended, trying to catch Hermione's eyes. She wouldn't look back at her.

Hermione transformed water from the faucet to ice cubes, adding them in the glasses. Then she got a tray from a shelf and placed the glasses on it, all the time not looking at Amanda. Burying her face in her hands, she breathed out heavily, then turned, upon taking a deep breath, to Amanda.

"Would you be my girlfriend?"

*.*.*

They sat for over an hour in Hermione's living room, Draco sitting on the sofa opposite to Hermione and Amanda on the leather couch, catching up on ol' good days as if they had been best friends who hadn't seen each other for years. It was just mostly him doing all the talk, smirk-smiling now and then, eyes soft, while rambling about his life and the world.

For a moment Hermione wondered if it was really Draco Malfoy sitting in the same room with her, reminiscing about the past, sipping gillywater, and for once being civil with her. Because Draco had never been this talkative, he'd never been a good listener either, now he even paid attention to the smallest details of everything Hermione had told him so far. Amanda sat beside Hermione, her chin rested on her hand, whilst her elbow propped on her knee. Looking quite with great interest at Draco—or maybe she was just being polite—she nodded, smiled, and added her two cents when the subject revolved around changing lifestyle, Quidditch, and work.

It was as Draco had mentioned in all his Owls to Hermione, about his life, that he had travelled a lot due to work as an Auror, that he'd seen monuments, pyramids, volcanoes, waterfalls, while hunting down the remaining Death Eaters. A former Death Eater himself, now working for the Order. Impressive how much he'd changed over the years.

While he sat there, rambling about random things in his life, never once did he mention his wife, as if she didn't exist. Though Hermione did expect that his wife, Astoria, was the reason he had come to her, Hermione, in the first place, that, maybe, he only wanted legal advice. That maybe he would tell her that he and his wife were undergoing some marital issues, and that this was why he 'needed to talk to her'. But this didn't seem to be the case.

And whenever he ended one of his adventurous stories, he would add, "You would've loved to see that, Hermione, the waterfalls, the ruins on the island," while his eyes softened and an actual smile appeared on his lips, or "I'd like to take you there someday." Was he seriously implying to run away with him, elope, like some teenagers in love?

And Hermione would notice Amanda biting her thumbnail, grunting quietly, while she'd look at Hermione as if expecting a certain reaction.

The first lights of the London Bridge were lit, and it was dark outside, when Hermione noticed the late hour.

"By the way," Hermione asked before calling it a day, "why were two fighting earlier—" she gestured with her thumb towards the main door, "—you know, when I arrived. What was that about?"

Amanda ducked her head as her cheeks flushed, while Draco leaned back and smirked at her. "Sorry 'bout that, Miss—Hermione. Right after you ditched me in the café, I thought I'd follow you home, then Mr. Malfoy showed up." She glared at Draco, then looked away shyly, saying, "And since you told me you were going to meet a client for private reasons, I asked him if _he_ was the client, and he said he was."

Hermione looked accusingly at Draco. "He's not."

"Admittedly, I checked your time planer, so there was no schedule for a Mr. Malfoy for today, so I know he was lying. I told him to go away, but he got very personal, said what a 'devoted secretary' I was, and whether I came here regularly, and if I got 'extra payment' for this 'kind of job'."

"Malfoy!" Hermione screeched, as Draco put his hands on his stomach and laughed. Hermione had never seen him laugh like that before; he looked suddenly ten years younger, like back in their fifth year when their relationship was still new and everything was exciting.

"I was kidding, Merlin!" Draco chortled, once he found his breath back. "C'mon, as if I was really thinking you were going out with women!"

"And what if I _were_?" Hermione retorted, challenging. She felt Amanda's gaze from the side.

Draco looked taken aback, but he didn't seem appalled by the thought, either. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm serious." Hermione tried to hold eye-contact, though she had to admit that there was something in his eyes, the look he gave her, that pulled her towards him. She averted his eyes, and looked at the coffee table in front of her, saying, "The last time we've seen each other was two years ago. Things have changed, Malfoy, so what if I'm not going out with men anymore? Isn't that a…revolting thought…two women…together?" she enunciated.

"Au contraire, ma chérie, I find that thought rather hot," Draco said, leaning in, "So, who's the other woman you're going out with? Don't tell me it's her," he said with a nod to Amanda, eyes tightening to little slits, "because I don't buy it."

Hermione placed a hand on Amanda's thigh, stroking it, without looking at her. She felt her twitched underneath her touch and Amanda let out a small squeak. "What Amanda and I are doing in our private time is our secret, you know?"

Draco arched an eyebrow, his eyes on Hermione's hand that was stroking Amanda's thigh. She prayed he didn't notice her slightly trembling. "You can't fucking fool me, you know?" he spat. Hermione swallowed, unable to respond to that. "You know why?" he asked.

Hermione waited, suddenly intrigued.

Sneering, he said, "While your sycophantic secretary, Amanda, is working for _you_, her beloved _husband_, Bradley Watson, however, is working for me. What, Hermione, are you implying that you're not only having an immoral affair with your employee, but also with a woman who's married?"

Hermione pulled her hand back as if burnt, threw a fiery look at Amanda, stood up, and disappeared in her bathroom.

*.*.*

_What was I thinking?_

She said it was all right. She agreed to it. She said it was fine.

_What was I thinking?_

Hermione sat in her empty bathtub, her face on her knees, arms around her legs.

_How humiliating!_

"Would you be my girlfriend?" Hermione had asked Amanda, her heartbeat quickening, her face warming but still she somehow managed to look the younger woman in the eye.

"Er…sure, would you like to go out on a date first?" Amanda had replied, giggling softly. She thought that Hermione was only kidding her.

"No, that's not what I mean," Hermione had said. "Can you act as my…erm…girlfriend while he's here? Act like, well, we're together. It won't probably take much this time, but I'm sure he'd be back again, so he needs to see us together. Just, I don't know, be…sweet to me, like—" Hermione felt like an idiot; she was a goddamn lawyer but was always rendered speechless whenever looking into Amanda's eyes. Or maybe it was the situation that made her all nervous.

"Am I not always being sweet to you?" Amanda had replied in a small voice, taking the tray from Hermione's hands. "Let me get that for you." As she had moved closer, she had given Hermione a peck on the lips as if that was a natural thing between them, then smiled. "Get used to that," she had said, winking, before she turned around and left the kitchen.

There was a knock at the door, and Hermione was pulled back from her reverie. Her visitors were still here, she figured, and how long had she locked herself up in the bathroom?

"Hermione?" It was Amanda, knocking again. "Mr. Malfoy just left. So I'll be leaving now, too." She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice almost sounded playful. "I guess, my, uhm…beloved husband will be waiting for me at home. Hermione? Are you all right?"

Hermione almost cried, or maybe she was already crying, for she felt tears on her face, dropping on her knees. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, not answering Amanda.

"Can I come in?" There was a short silence, then the doorknob turned. Amanda came in with her wand in her hand, holding it up. "Sorry to intrude, but you didn't lock the door with a spell."

"Can't you just go away? It's late and I have to get up early tomorrow," Hermione said in a hoarse voice, sniffing.

"Do you intend to sleep in the bathtub?" Amanda asked, looking amused. "Are you crying?"

"Amanda, can't you just go away?"

"You have to make up your mind, you know. First you begged me to stay, now you're just throwing me out without even saying goodbye?"

"Well, I've changed my mind. Get out!"

"Hermione, you didn't really believe him, did you?" Amanda said in a tone as if she was hurt. "That I'm married?" she snorted. "Right."

Hermione looked up, seeing Amanda leaning against the sink.

"He really knows you so well. He knows how to get to you that easily, and honestly, I was surprised that you believed him that," Amanda said sadly, biting her bottom lip and then dropping her gaze to her bare feet. She always took her shoes off when she was at Hermione's place even though the floor was cold and Hermione had told her not to; it showed her respect to the owner. "Bradley Simms, not Watson, used to work with Mr. Malfoy before, but he quit his job since his position required a lot of travelling. I dated him back in school, we even lived in together for a few months, then we broke up. Perhaps he mentioned me to Mr. Malfoy, told him that I was working for you, I dunno."

Turning around to check herself in the mirror, Amanda removed the clips from her hair and ran her hand through it. She was watching Hermione from the mirror reflection as she re-did her hair, combing it neatly with her fingers.

"Bradley was just not the One for me. I was young and naïve, and due to family issues I ended up living with him in a small, run-down apartment. I had no other places to go and no money," she explained. Then her eyes drifted back to Hermione's. "Maybe we should get to know each other better, Hermione, I mean, on a personal basis. We might even become good friends." She flashed Hermione her patented killer-smile, her hair shiny and neat, her cheeks rosy. "As far as it concerns men, we seem to have the same type, and I still think that Mr. Malfoy is breathtakingly hot, his arrogance is even a plus. I love self-confident men."

"I don't understand," Hermione said slowly, confused. "Can I ask you something personal? But don't get it the wrong way, all right?"

"Oh, sure."

"Am I correct to assume that you…like men, as in…you're straight?" Hermione said, feeling uncomfortable to ask the other woman about her sexual orientation in such a clumsy way. And why it even mattered to her. "And I assume you have only been in heterosexual relationships before, you fancy men, but—" Hermione faltered, looking away bashfully. "—I don't understand. When you look at me—_argh_, nevermind. I knew I've only been delusional and even entertained the thought that someone else might fancy me," she cringed, giggling nervously, "—and then the kiss. It felt so real. Oh goodness."

"When I first kissed you in the night club?" Amanda asked out of the blue, her eyes crinkling at the corners, her smile reaching her eyes. "I'm sorry about that."

"What? So you do remember?" Hermione half-shrieked, gobsmacked. "I—I—Oh Cripes! Do you think this is funny? Some stupid joke?"

"No, I don't really remember," Amanda replied, "but Landon told me I made out with a woman. Two weeks ago you asked me if 'I remember'? So I asked Landon if I did something stupid lately, and the last time I went out was over a month ago, when I got wasted. So I added one and one together, though I never would've thought that the woman was you. I mean, you—going to such a party haunt like Hell's Night Club? And then suddenly you invited me over to your place, then you kissed me." She added dreamily, closing her eyes, "I'd never forget that." She giggled and blushed.

"Oh God!" Hermione moaned, hiding her face. "So, what do you mean? You like women, too?"

"No," Amanda replied tersely, "I don't like women. Just one in particular."

Hermione gripped her knees tighter. "And Landon, who's he?"

"I thought you met him already. Didn't you see the resemblance?" Amanda laughed, not catching Hermione's confusion. "He's my fraternal twin brother. His hair is lighter than mine, while his eyes are brown instead of blue. He comes more after our mother, while I come after my good-looking father."

"Oh." Hermione laughed now, too. "I didn't know you have a twin brother."

"What else do you want to know?" Amanda encouraged her, moving closer to sit on the edge of the bathtub. "Uhm…There's one thing I'd like to ask you, Hermione, but it's very personal. And you don't have to answer if—" she trailed off.

"Well, ask me anything. I don't have any secrets," Hermione replied lightly, reaching up a hand to brush a hair strand behind her ear.

"It's something I _can't_ ask you," Amanda looked at the ceiling, not explaining further. "I've been wondering about it the whole time. But I'm almost certain you won't tell me. Ah—just forget about it." She giggled and sighed at once. "Anyway, anything else you'd like to know about me? I don't have children, so we can cross that out from the list, too."

Hermione hesitated. There _was_ a question on her mind. "So the woman you're interested in—"

Amanda flinched, looking embarrassed. She coughed in her fist, her cheeks and ears red. "Hermione, you probably should get out of the tub," she said instead, disregarding Hermione. "Isn't it a bit uncomfortable sitting there?"

"Yes, right." Standing and trying to get out of the tub, Hermione slid off the edge and fell directly into Amanda's arms, colliding with the softness of her chest. Squeaking in shock, she pulled back quickly, her face feeling hot. Amanda was still holding her.

"You okay?"

"Nothing happened, I'm fine. I'm fine," Hermione reassured her, waving it off. Since the bathroom was too small for two people, and Amanda was blocking her way, she didn't know how to move without touching Amanda again. Amanda released her arm and leaned against the sink again, looking at her from the side. Hermione just couldn't look at her.

She headed quickly for the door, when Amanda kicked it shut with her foot. There was a mischievous smile on her face, a glint in her eye. "Is it such a hardship for you, Hermione, to be alone with me in one small room?" she asked in a low voice.

"N—No. It's just—it's really late," Hermione said lamely, gesturing with her hands. _Why is she doing this?_ "You should leave now," she said, looking directly into Amanda's eyes.

And this was a big mistake…

Amanda tugged at Hermione's blouse, lightly, her smile playful though somewhat wicked, to pull her closer to her, until they stood only inches away from each other. Hermione couldn't help but give in to this invisible force, her body not even making any effort to protest. The sudden closeness made Hermione feel nervous and uncomfortable, simply because Amanda just looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes, as if she was seeing through her, their lips almost touching but not close enough that they actually touched. Hermione held her breath, whimpering at the back of her throat. She placed her hands against the sink behind Amanda as she felt her knees buckle.

Amanda looked at her, intently, with just thumb and indexfinger holding the hem of Hermione's blouse to keep her from moving. And all she did was—stare.

And Hermione felt a sudden desire to kiss her, filling her body with heat. She looked back at Amanda's eyes—_blue_—as if looking into them for the first time. But she felt too shy and too insecure to do the first move; the light was just too bright, and Hermione felt too exposed. No, she couldn't. It was so wrong to even think it. She wanted to move, draw away, lean back, look somewhere else. But she couldn't.

_What's happening? Why can't I move?_

After what seemed like several minutes, Amanda smiled, nodding once. "Now I know how he did it," she said in her normal voice, almost contented with herself.

"What?"

"Draco Malfoy—I know now how he did it, and how you fell in love with him," she said.

Then, as she turned off the light, she finally leaned in and kissed Hermione.

* * *

**A/N: 30 people so far have added this to their story alert/favorite. _ehem_... thank you. Thanks for reading and sorry for the slow update. I'm not sure whether I should finish this story. It's almost always the same plot as my other ones, except this one contains Dramione, a straight pairing as the supporting main pairing. . I've put my priorities on my other femmeslash fictions. You might want to check them out: "What A Wicked Game You Play" and its spin-off, "Fire In The Belly".**


	7. Don't Mess With Your Boss

**A/N: Hi! Thanks for coming back. Hope you enjoy this chapter. **

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**Chapter 7 – Rule Number 7: Don't Mess With Your Boss**

The following week went smoothly for Hermione, as smoothly as it could be, that was, when she wasn't stuck with Amanda in an empty lift or Amanda wasn't sorting through the files in her office, and Hermione didn't have to make conversation with her. She drank her coffee in peace while throwing glimpses at the young woman with her strawberry-blonde hair, which she kept tossing over her shoulder now and again. The same woman she was having an illicit sham-affair with only to delude a married man who kept bothering her incessantly.

Hermione received an Owl that Thursday afternoon. The handwriting looked familiar; she tore the envelope open and read its content.

_Dear Hermione,_

_We haven't spoken in a while. How are you? I hope you are doing well. Draco's solicitor, Blaise Zabini, and fortunately my friend as well, advised me to get in touch with you. I was hoping we could meet in the next few days while I'm still on leave. Draco is travelling again and I cannot tell whether it's due to his work or other personal issues. I'm not implying anything, it's just I have a bad feeling about this. I know that he's seen you in the last few days; he told me. I'm looking forward to hearing from you._

_Sincerely, _

_Astoria Malfoy_

Dropping her head on the desk, Hermione groaned and clutched the letter in her hand. He told his wife that he met me? Why the heck would he do that?

"Miss Granger, is everything alright? Erm…here's something for you," a man's voice from the door said. Hermione looked up and saw Timmy, the bald short man, in the doorway. "Here's the file you requested. Amanda asked me to give it to you." He walked to her desk and put the folder there, eyeing Hermione suspiciously.

"Where is Amanda?" Hermione asked, frowning as she took the folder from Timmy's hand. "Isn't this supposed to be _her_ job?" She regretted her tone immediately, and sighed, "I'm sorry about that."

"She's in Mr. Burton's office," Timmy said calmly as though he was used to her temper. "I think he's discussing an upcoming meeting with her."

Looking at Timmy, she wondered for the first time how old he was. He seemed to be in his early thirties, maybe mid-thirties, she wasn't sure. His eyes were dark brown and his pleated shirt and dark-grey slacks made him look even older than he probably was. Did he have kids? She never asked him nor had he ever mentioned that he was married or had children. But then again, she never actually bothered to know. Not that she didn't care but her work had mainly consumed most of her attention. Even Amanda Watson, the 'rumoured beauty' as Zabini put it, Hermione had never noticed until recently, even though Amanda had been working for her for nearly over a half year now.

"Thank you, Timmy," Hermione said. Trying a casual approach, she added, "and…how is your wife?" Well, perhaps getting on the good sides with the staff and some colleagues might be a good idea, people who didn't see her as a bossy bitch-zilla with zero social life, before her sham-affair with her own secretary transpired. She flashed him a sweet smile she hoped wasn't too forced. Timmy blushed, loosening his collar.

"Well, ex-wife actually," he said, pleased that Hermione was taking an interest in his life. "She lives with the kids in Wandsworth. Jordon and Emily visited me last weekend and I took them out to the Watersports Centre here in London. They had fun," he told her, his eyes gleaming. "I haven't seen them since last Christmas."

"Oh, I didn't know you have children," Hermione said honestly.

"Sadly, they aren't mine," Timmy said, "They're my wife's children from her first marriage. But I love them like my own. Jordon is fifteen and Emily is eight."

"I see," Hermione said, tucking a curl behind her ear.

Timmy shifted uncomfortably on his spot, looking like a teenager who was intimidated by his crush. He even blushed when Hermione smiled at him again. She didn't realise that she had the power to mesmerise people with just a simple look, even if it was just Timmy, the short, bald, and divorced man with two kids. But then again, even Amanda, for some reason, was spellbound by her charms.

Thinking about it, why didn't she choose Timmy over Amanda to scare off Draco Malfoy? Maybe then he'd be repulsed by the thought and leave her alone. But instead it seemed to have rekindled his interest in her even more, and made Hermione more desirable in Draco's eyes—because, let's face it, what is hotter than two women he _can't_ have?

Clearing her throat, she signed the files and handed it back to Timmy. He wobbled quickly outside her office.

"God, that was awkward," Hermione said to herself, but couldn't help but feel flattered.

During her late lunch, she met up with Ginny, as usual, in the cafeteria downstairs in the lobby. She told Ginny everything that had happened in the past few days and especially about the awkward 'meeting' with Draco and Amanda in her flat a week ago, but chose to withhold the part where she and Amanda had kissed in her bathroom.

Then she mentioned that Amanda might be a Legilimens. It made Hermione slightly paranoid around her secretary because she, herself, never mastered Occlumency to guard her thoughts, but she omitted the detail that those thoughts revolved around Amanda and her sexy bum. Ginny disregarded the idea with a wave of her hand and assured her that if Amanda had applied magic to read her mind, Hermione would have noticed. Amanda was just adept at reading body language and facial expressions, acquired through her daily experience of dealing and handling with clients. Maybe that was all that Amanda did with Hermione, Ginny had explained, and Hermione nodded and admitted defeat.

"So, he came to your flat just like that only to _talk_?" Ginny asked flabbergasted, shoving a forkful of potato and peas in her mouth. "What a prick! Did he say he wants you back or…or wants to have sex for the last time?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at her. "No. He _can't_ have me back. He's going to be a father." She sipped at her juice and looked around the half-crowded cafeteria. "Plus, he's married. And his wife wants to see me."

"And what does _she_ want? You comforting him like in the good ol' days?"

"She somehow knows that Draco's been obsessively stalking me, though she didn't call it that, 'stalking'," Hermione mumbled in her glass. "What should I do, Ginny? Tell me. You know everything."

"_I_ know everything? You're the freakish know-it-all. Besides, I thought he knows that you're batting for the opposition now?" Ginny said nonchalantly, cutting her steak in small pieces.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked, irritated.

"Come _on_, The Game of Flats?"

"What?"

"Etre aux femmes? Still too vague, eh?"

"Ginny, I swear…"

Ginny groaned and rolled her eyes. "What about 'Sapphistry'? Too poetic?"

Hermione almost choked on her juice. "Why don't you just say it? You mean my relationship with…_her_?" she hissed, lowering her voice.

"Yes. How's it been? Gone all the way already?"

"Will you please lower your voice a little? I believe the deaf woman on the other side of the city didn't hear you," Hermione snapped.

"Relax, as if they know what we're talking about," Ginny muffled, chewing leisurely on her steak. "I thought it's working out great between the two of you."

"Shh! No one's supposed to know about that."

"What? No one's listening, Hermione," Ginny said in a low voice. You never know, they were just in the damn cafeteria where most of Hermione's damn colleagues had their damn lunch. Then Ginny lifted her head and smiled behind Hermione, waving someone over. "Hi, you want to join us?"

Oh, no, no, no. Déjà vu.

Hermione turned her head slowly and saw Amanda approaching. _Perfect_.

Taking the chair beside Ginny and opposite to Hermione, Amanda placed her tray on the table, rather absent-minded and slightly angry about something. She tucked her wallet and what seemed like a Muggle device, which Hermione assumed was an iPod, in her small purse, and then removed the earplugs from her ears. She was frowning when she took the fork in one hand and started picking on her salad, mumbling something that sounded like a 'Good afternoon'.

Ginny exchanged a questioning look with Hermione. "So, how's your day so far, Amanda?" she asked.

"Mr. Burton's an arse-face," Amanda muttered, shoving the chicken dices, tomato, and corn around her plate.

"What happened?" Ginny asked.

"He said he wants to _borrow_ me for a meeting," Amanda cried. "Do I look like people can borrow me like a piece of underwear on a sleepover party?"

Ginny giggled and pulled a face. "I've never borrowed underwear before."

"Ginny," Hermione said reproachfully. Admittedly, it was never boring with Ginny and she did lift the tension in a room, but heavens forbid she'd act her age once in a while. "For which meeting is it?" Hermione inquired, looking on Amanda's assorted salad as she started eating the lettuce only.

"The conference in Brent with the Campbells, you know, the Collaborative Divorce?" Amanda said grumpily, referring to the couple who had agreed from the beginning not to resolve their differences in court. It would be a long procedure. There would be a series of meetings with both party's solicitors, third parties, and other experts to achieve the best outcome for the entire family. Amanda didn't seem enthusiastic, even though she'd always wanted to see other cities outside London. "Mr. Burton's the representative for Mr. Campbell and apparently Mrs Campbell has excellent solicitors. He wants to use me to get them _distracted_ and all I have to do is just, well, look pretty. Duh? I was so close to tell him to fuck off. Oh sorry, Miss Granger," she amended quickly, covering her mouth.

"That fucking bastard!" Ginny chipped in.

"Did he really say that?" Hermione asked, incredulous.

"What else would he want from me? He has his own secretary to take down his notes and pass him the files," Amanda said angrily. "I can't imagine that I work more proficiently than Timmy or Sue, seeing that Sue has been his secretary for over twenty years, God, even since long before I was born. And judging her age, she's probably the first person to use the first typewriter back in the 19th century," she vented. Ginny stifled a giggle. She knew a typewriter from her father's Muggle collection. And she knew Sue, too, even before Amanda started her job there. "Sue's been giving me death glares since I left his office," Amanda finished, whimpering.

"Poor you—must be quite a burden being so extremely gorgeous," Ginny said in sympathy, "I know how you feel." Hermione raised an eyebrow at her.

Amanda looked at her and smiled miserably, oblivious that Ginny was only teasing her, though Ginny meant it to cheer her up. "Cheer up, Amanda, your boss is a douche and just doesn't know how to appreciate your true skills. So, you're coming with him to this conference?"

"I've no other choice, have I?"

"But shouldn't you check it with Hermione first if she's fine with this?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Why should she be asking _me_?" Hermione said, giving her another warning look, which Ginny just ignored.

"Well, Amanda's your secretary, isn't she? Even though this Mr. Douche is the company owner, you're still her boss."

Amanda looked at Hermione for the first time that day, her eyes full of hopes.

"Th-There's nothing I can do about this," Hermione said quickly. "If he wants you than you're free to go. It's not like I own you."

"Miss Granger, you can tell him that you need me and that you don't want me to leave," Amanda said with a plea in her blue eyes. "I'm begging you. You can tell him that. Tell him, tell him—" she paused briefly, then flashed Hermione one of her brilliant smiles, "—that I'm yours. Besides, you don't want me to leave, do you? Who knows how long I'll be away."

Hermione blushed and looked on her half finished plate, not knowing what to respond to this.

"Yes, Hermione, Amanda is yours, isn't she?" Ginny said, hiding her grin behind her glass. Hermione kicked her under the table for whatever she was insinuating. Ginny didn't even flinch, but Amanda did.

"Ouch, that was my leg," Amanda said, grimacing, and then rubbed her shin.

"Oh sorry." Hermione, looking daggers at Ginny, blamed her friend for making her act immaturely every time Amanda was around. She'd so kill Ginny after this! "I—I'll see what I can do, though I can't promise anything."

"Thank you…Hermione," Amanda said, her cheeks crimson when she went on finishing her salad.

~.~.~

There was a tap against Hermione's office window when she came back from lunch. Walking towards it to let the owl in, she unfastened the letter from its leg and gave the owl a treat.

_Hermione, _

_I'm sorry if I just wrote you now. I've been really busy in the past few days, investigating a case to which the Ministry assigned me and I won't probably be back until next week. Italy is a great city; you must see it for yourself someday, I'm certain you'd like it here. How's work doing? I hope you are not upset with me anymore. Did my wife write to you yet? I know you won't write me back anyway, so I'll see you next time._

_Regards,_

_D. Malfoy_

"Seriously, Malfoy?" Hermione huffed in annoyance at the letter as if speaking directly to Draco, "I must have missed the fact that we're friends now."

She didn't know why he still had the power over her and made her all wound-up even though he was miles away from her. She didn't know why she was so angry with Draco and his stupid blond hair that hung in his grey eyes every time he looked at her. She didn't know why she feared that she might make the second big mistake in her life if he came back and looked at her with those mesmerising eyes again.

She didn't know why she hated him so much more now even though he'd completely changed and was less the prat he used to be at Hogwarts back then.

If only he wasn't married.

If only he wasn't married to Astoria, who had been Hermione's friend since her last year in Hogwarts. She wasn't as close to Astoria as she was to Ginny, but still, she cared as much for her. And Astoria was having his spawn.

She threw the letter away and stormed outside her office. Amanda was talking to an old lady with grey hair and glasses, wearing a polka-dot pink dress. She was twice Amanda's age perhaps, and Amanda looked slightly frightened by her sight. The lady was Sue, Mr. Burton's secretary for twenty years Amanda was talking about earlier.

Amanda had control over men with just a crook of one finger, yet her charms were ineffective when it came to old hags where her physical appearance didn't work, mainly because they resented her youth with every bone in their body. It was almost pitiable having to watch Amanda cower away whenever Sue or one of the other older women scolded her.

When Hermione passed them, she heard bits of their conversation as she knocked against Mr. Burton's office door and barged inside.

"You can't take her with you," Hermione said to the greasy old Mr. Burton sitting at his desk, two clients in front of him, looking startled at Hermione's entrance.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Burton said.

"I said, you can't take Amanda with you to the conference in Brent," Hermione said tersely, frowning at her boss. Where her courage came from, she had no sodding idea. "I need her here and I don't see any reason why you can't take Sue."

"Miss Granger, I'm in a middle of a meeting. Can't this wait until—"

"No, this can't wait. You can't take Amanda. Period." And then she left his office and walked back to where Sue stood looking at her in shock and Amanda in astonishment. She rounded on the polka-dotted hag, glaring at her. "And what's the matter this time, Sue?" she asked through her teeth, keeping her voice low. "Do you have any complaints _again_ about Amanda's possibly inefficient job performance that I know nothing about? If you have, then I _kindly_ ask you to report your complaints to me and I will tell her off if I deem it necessary."

Yes, Hermione was aware that she was anything but 'kind'. Yes, she knew that she was being bitch-zilla again. And yes, she knew that this had awful consequences.

She heard Amanda gulp behind her.

"N-No, ma'am, it's about the report she didn't turn in this m-morning," Sue whimpered, clutching a folder in her hands.

"Oh, didn't she? Well, I asked her to submit an urgent report this morning, which I asked her to prioritise, and she did. I'm satisfied," Hermione said bossily, earning curious looks from bystanders. "Who are you to tell her off how she does her work, Sue?"

"I apologise, ma'am," Sue said, throwing Amanda a disgusted look. She looked on the brink of tears and Hermione instantly felt sorry for her unprofessional bitch-mode behaviour. She'd surely have to deal with Mr. Burton later, but that was something she didn't worry about now. "If you excuse me, I'll be finishing this report before Mr. Burton returns from his meeting." She dashed off and sat down at her desk in front of her boss' office, looking sour.

Hermione then turned to face Amanda, whose face was glowing, sweat on her forehead.

"There. Was that so hard? Can't you, just for once, stand up for yourself?" she said angrily, projecting her frustration at Draco Malfoy for unknowingly resurfacing buried feelings for him at her helpless looking secretary. And then she stormed off to her own meeting, and left Amanda there rooted on her spot.

~.~.~

Hermione sat by the fireplace, going through her speech for her next case. She didn't really understood why she always got the cases like for instance, the alcoholic husband who'd been in jail and reported for domestic violence, filing for custody for his children, ended up being in her charge. These were the common instances where she had to disregard personal opinions or feelings, no matter what she thought of her clients.

A knock on her door startled her. Looking at her clock, Hermione pulled her duvet over her shoulders tighter, got up and walked towards the door. When she looked through the peephole, she was surprised to see Astoria Greengrass standing in front of her front door.

"Oh," she said in greeting. "Astoria!"

Astoria flung her arms around her, clearly delighted to see her. True, they had been friends before, but they had somehow drifted apart, especially since Draco's unexpected marriage to her. They had even hardly spoken a word to each other after that. It was mainly due to the guilty feelings Hermione felt towards the other woman because she had slept with Draco once two years ago. At the funeral of his mother. How immorally awful was that?

"You look fantastic, Hermione," Astoria said, looking Hermione up and down. "How have you been?"

"Fine, I guess," Hermione replied airily, gesturing Astoria inside. She closed the door behind her. "How'd you know I live here? I mean, you've never been here before." The last time Astoria had visited her was in her previous flat in Diagon Alley, and before she became Mrs Draco Malfoy.

"Draco gave me your address," Astoria said, shrugging off her robe. "I hope you don't mind the sudden imposition."

"No, it's fine," Hermione said.

"Did you get my Owl?"

"Yes, I did. Just this morning." Walking to the kitchen, Hermione got a bottle of gillywater and a glass, and walked back to the living room, where Astoria sat on the leather couch, making herself comfortable.

"Thanks," she said when she took the drink from Hermione. "It's a nice place you got yourself here. Fantastic view, too."

"Astoria, I don't think you came here just to marvel at my fantastic view, do you?"

"No, but I wanted to see you," Astoria said merrily.

"Well, I'm glad to see you, too," Hermione said uncomfortably. "How's the baby?" She threw a fleeting glance at Astoria's belly and immediately regretted it.

Astoria, smiling and stroking her still flat belly, replied casually, "Thanks, it's all right. I went for a check-up last week. Did Blaise tell you?" Hermione nodded.

"I found out about five weeks ago," Astoria told her, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear. "I guess I'm lucky that I found out before my husband turned in the divorce petition." There were tears in her emerald-green eyes as she said this, blinking them away. "I don't blame him. I'm fine with it, actually."

"How can you be fine with it?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "Did you talk with him about it?"

"About the pregnancy?"

"Yes…No, I mean, about the divorce issue."

"When he's not travelling then he's staying at his parents'. I don't see him much around. But I'm fine with it, really," Astoria said as if merely discussing the change of weather. "So, how's everything with your life? Doing great?"

"Astoria, can we drop this for a moment, please? It's not about me right now. Your husband wants to divorce you, and you're pregnant, and you're 'fine with it'?"

"He's been talking about divorcing me for over a year now," Astoria said curtly, looking around the room, "I didn't expect he'd actually do it."

"But…why? Did he tell you the reason?"

"He didn't have to. I know why." She looked Hermione in the eye, her expression cold. "I was just wondering if you were planning to sleep with him again like you did two years ago, on his mother's funeral. He let it slip during an argument, so don't give me that look as if you don't know what I'm talking about."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "That sodding son-of-a—" then she closed her mouth, biting her bottom lip. "I'm so sorry, Astoria, I really am. I know what you must be thinking of me. I don't know what happened that night. I'm such a—"

"—a lying goddamn bitch, who had a one-one stand with your friend's husband?" Astoria filled in, her eyes swimming in tears. But she waved it off. "It's all water under the bridge, right? It's not like it wasn't his fault, too."

Hermione briefly questioned Astoria's sanity, because if it were _her_ husband who had cheated on her and then filed for divorce two years later while she was pregnant, Hermione would make sure that Draco got his treasured manhood ripped out and fed to a giant hippogriff.

Yet, Astoria just sat there, and, despite the angry tears in her eyes that could as well only have been triggered by her hormones, she didn't seem too upset at all. As if she had already accepted the fact that her husband was a lying cheat and an arsehole and she could do nothing about it.

"Why are you really here, Astoria?" Hermione asked softly, leaning back in her seat.

"I don't know," Astoria answered, staring outside the window. It was already dark outside and the lights of the London Bridge were shining like stars. "My sister suggested talking to a divorce solicitor. Well, I didn't see a problem talking to _you_ then, even though you're the one he cheated on me with."

"I'll work this out for you," was all Hermione could say, "we'll file a counter-petition and I guarantee you alimony and child support from him, and he won't get a knut from you. But you have to tell him about the pregnancy."

"I'm not even sure if I want to keep the baby," Astoria whispered, looking on the ground. "How can I raise a child on my own, in this messed up life, with a father who doesn't even want it?"

"You don't know that. Tell him about it."

"I'm so angry, Hermione, at him and…at you, but it doesn't change anything anyway, does it?" Astoria drank from her glass and refilled it, her hands were shaking. "I know he still loves you, and he always wanted to be with you."

"That's not true!" Hermione exclaimed. She leaned forward and squeezed her hand.

Astoria snorted, shaking her off. "I better leave. I'll make an appointment with you for next week, if that's okay." Hermione nodded, saying nothing.

There was another knock on the door. Astoria was throwing her robe over and opened it.

"Oops," said the voice outside. It was Amanda. "Oh, hi!"

"Hello," Astoria said in greeting. Then she turned to Hermione, her eyebrows raised as if she knew something. "I'll see you next week then."

"I didn't mean to—" Amanda said quickly as she looked after Astoria taking the lift, "—intrude. Who was that?" she asked Hermione curiously.

"That was Astoria Malfoy," Hermione said, ushering Amanda inside.

"Wow, she's striking. And that Malfoy-arse wants to divorce her?" Amanda said, astounded. "Something's definitely wrong with him. Though, on the other hand—" she looked at Hermione, her eyes gleaming, "—he wants _you_, so maybe—"

"Amanda, what do you want?" Hermione cut her off.

"I'm sorry for imposing on you at this late hour." She took a deep breath, then continued, "I just didn't like the way you left earlier, after you humiliated me in front of everybody."

"I humiliated you?"

"Yeah, now bloody Sue's gonna make my life a living nightmare," Amanda cried, "I can deal with her myself, you know. I didn't ask you to step in for me; all I asked was to talk to Mr. Burton that he shouldn't go 'round, displaying me like a sex object to brag to his little friends. What you did was humi—"

Hermione didn't know what possessed her, but she cut Amanda off with a kiss, pinning her against the door. Amanda was as surprised and shocked as Hermione was, but she was kissing her back.

After Hermione drew back, she asked breathily, "You're staying here tonight, aren't you?"

Amanda only nodded and whimpered.

"Good, because there's something I have to talk with you about," Hermione said.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter. Please, if you're enjoying it so far and want me to finish it, leave a comment below or PM me. It's hard getting inspired if I know that no one's reading this anyway. :) **

**About the story: I'm a Draco/Hermione shipper, so there'll be subtle love scenes with this pairing in future chapters (_if _I decide not to abandon this story). But it remains mainly femmeslash. Amanda has a big secret she's keeping from Hermione, so does Hermione and Draco together; it's the very reason Hermione hates him so much. Thanks for reading. Feel free to check out my other stories if you're into femmeslash or Dramione. c",)**


	8. Guilt

**A/N: This is only a filler chapter, hence, the different title. **

**As you may have noticed, I'm using British English (or at least I try to). You'll encounter a few British terms. Okay, just 2 or 3.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is still not mine. Amanda Watson, however, is. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Guilt**

Hermione shuffled unsteadily to her kitchen to get some drinks, her mind feeling light-headed from the kiss with Amanda. Even though they had kissed more intense and deeper than that before—whether intoxicated, or magnetised by Amanda's celestial blue eyes, or just out of impulse quite like earlier—Hermione could still not get her head around the thought that she was enjoying this physically affectionate act with another woman.

Hermione reminded herself once again that she did this not out of personal enjoyment, but for a reason. Whether Zabini, who had started all of this, or Ginny, who encouraged her to this, or Draco, this charade was aimed for, knew about her actually kissing Amanda, she didn't know. Though she had confided in Ginny about their _accidental_ first kiss, but she trusted her friend to keep it a secret. What Ginny didn't know, however, was that Hermione had been making out with Amanda now and again, and the last few times didn't at all serve as a turn-off for Draco Malfoy.

Perhaps the whole plan was slowly starting to get out of hand.

~.~.~

An indefinite period of time later that same evening and after their conversation that turned into a heated argument, Amanda had Apparated home. Hermione couldn't help but notice that the younger woman had left as distraught as she was when she had arrived at Hermione's place earlier. Except this time, she had masked her emotion with a strained smile that looked unnatural on her pretty face.

Once alone in her flat and sitting on her bed while trying to read a book, Hermione thought about the evening...

Hermione had asked Amanda upfront whether she was a Legilimens, and if she had read her mind that revolved around her past with Draco Malfoy, thus, having illegally invaded Hermione's privacy.

Hermione couldn't hide the fact that she was displeased by this notion, because her past with Draco was nobody's business—not even Ginny, who was her main confidante, knew everything about her and Draco, especially not that one secret they shared together.

Amanda had looked offended by this accusation and had assured Hermione that she'd never invade and sift through people's minds, and that Hermione would have noticed if her mind was being read. The same thing Ginny had said. And Hermione knew this, too. Perhaps, part of her just wanted to assure if she could trust Amanda—someone she knew very little about, yet seemed to know so much about her.

"How come you knew what I was thinking then?" Hermione had asked her.

"Maybe I only guessed right?" Amanda had said with a shrug. "You're easy to read, just by looking at you. I know someday you'll just throw away everything you have and achieved in life and go with him to those places he promised to take you to." Then she snorted, as if disgusted. "You're not even aware of the things you do or say when he's around, are you? Like when he looks at you and speaks to you, you're—you're not yourself. You're hanging on his every word, as if no one else's in the room except for him."

What? Was she? "No, that's not true!" Hermione had exclaimed, flabbergasted. Was that how she was being perceived on the outside?

Amanda had merely scoffed. "Ever heard of 'You create your own reality' or 'you are what your think your are'?" she asked her all of a sudden, throwing Hermione off-guard, "If you are in denial about your true feelings for Mr. Malfoy, convincing yourself to hate him, you will consciously, deliberately, tell people or try to act as if you hate him. You'll develop bad emotions like anger and guilt because you're not only lying to others, but mainly to yourself. And that, eventually, will damage you on the inside."

"Alright, now you don't only possess Seer qualities, predicting my future life with Malfoy, but you're the Psychologist again, analysing my psyche. Jesus, all your great talents gone wasted when you decided to become a secretary and…" Hermione trailed off, biting her tongue quickly; she didn't want to add fuel to the fire. Though she'd only wanted to hurt Amanda for making her feel emotionally exposed and vulnerable, she was never one to judge people by the kind of job they'd chosen as their profession. Instead she spat, "I don't feel anything for him. He's married, for Christ's sake!"

"Oh, you must have a pretty high opinion of yourself for belittling me like this. And it's not the first time," Amanda had said disdainfully, shaking her head. "He's married, eh?" she had echoed, "is that excuse even enough anymore?"

Hermione sighed deeply when she banished this argument from her mind. She closed her book and put it on the nightstand beside her. There was no way Amanda was right and she'd prove that to her, and everyone who believed this—including Astoria Malfoy—once Draco returned from Italy.

~.~.~

The next morning, Amanda had called in sick and Timmy worked for her instead. There wasn't a lot of work to do anyway except for three meetings to attend to.

For the first time, Hermione left the office early and Apparated to the Ministry to pay Harry a surprise visit. No matter how well she got along with either Ginny, with whom she spent some lunchtime a week together, or Amanda, if they weren't having some miscommunication, Hermione missed the company of a male friend.

Harry just knocked off work when Hermione met him. He was delighted upon seeing her, pulling her into a body-crushing hug.

"Hello stranger," Harry said to her, "good to see you. I thought you'd never leave the office ever and that you'd moved all your stuff in there."

"Don't be silly," Hermione giggled, "last time I went over to your place, _you_ weren't there. You have no idea how stressful it can be dealing with couples and their marital problems."

"My job is as stressful as yours, Hermione," Harry said, leading her to a small café in Diagon Alley, "but I can at least take the time out of my busy schedule and Owl you once in a while."

Hermione felt guilty for being such a bad friend. Even Ron, whose Auror training station was located in Versailles and only came during the holidays or on special occasions, Owl'ed or Floo'ed them more frequently than _she_ did. And Draco, who travelled across the world as an Auror Owl'ed her more often, but that was a different story.

"So, how are you?" Harry asked once their food was served in front of them. "Have you been eating properly? You look too meagre, Hermione."

"Oh, you know, you sound like your future mother-in-law." Thinking about the Weasleys family and The Burrow made Hermione feel more guilty and worse because she hardly Owl'ed them. She made a mental note to make up for that, or at least Floo them once she got home.

"Speaking of which, dunno if Ginny told you already," Harry said, devouring his beef steak, "Molly invited us to lunch tomorrow. Ginny was gonna Owl you or tell you after her Quidditch training. Did you see her today?"

"No, we don't usually meet on Fridays," Hermione said absent-mindedly, nibbling on her chips.

"Hermione, what's the matter?" Harry asked warily, eyeing her from across the table.

"What? Why?" Hermione said, furrowing her eyebrows at the sudden worried expression on Harry's face, "Oh, lunch sounds great, by the way. Tell her I'll be there. Ron Owl'ed me about two weeks ago. Apparently, he met a girl there—I forgot her name, Cynthia or Cindy—a fellow trainee, but I'm sure you know about that already. Oh, he sends me expensive wines once a month; I think he's turning me into an alcoholic." She giggled softly. "By the way, do you have a date yet for your wedding?" Hermione rambled on, watching as Harry's eyebrows disappeared in his hair. "What?" Suddenly, she was feeling self-conscious about herself. She tucked a curl behind her ear and averted her eyes from Harry's.

"Are you sure you're okay, Hermione?"

"Yes!" Hermione half-shrieked, growing agitated. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because I think something's bothering you," Harry pointed out, now his eyes were narrowing down at her suspiciously. "Did something happen at work? Or is everything fine with your family?"

"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed. More guilt. Because she hadn't seen her parents since last year in Christmas, and that was now eight months ago. She had written her mother a birthday card and sent her a little gift from a store nearby, and it wasn't even her who bought it—she had requested her secretary to do it. "Mum and Dad are fine. Work is great. I eat too much, I think. And I can't wait to see Molly and the rest."

Harry seemed fine with this answer and nodded. "But you look a bit pale. You should go out more often. It's currently off-season for the Holyhead Harpies, so Ginny won't be working too much. I suggest you hang out with her and do your girly stuff together, whatever you girls do…" he flinched and corrected himself, "…erm, _women_, I mean. And no, we have no date for the wedding yet. It's currently too hectic at the Ministry, and even though Ron's doing this special Auror training, and Malfoy, surprisingly, is doing a great job in Italy, I deem it not safe enough yet. We've only captured a handful of remaining Death Eaters and…Hermione?"

Hermione had stopped listening to Harry once she heard _his_ name. He would be back next week and she'd have to face him. She'd resolve this once and for all. Amanda was wrong. Ginny was wrong. Zabini was wrong. Astoria Malfoy was wrong.

He didn't love her. And most certainly, she did not have feelings for _him_.

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Hermione banished all thoughts of _him_ from her mind. She'd have to deal with him later.

Harry was now looking at her rather worriedly, for she had gone completely silent. It was unusual that Harry did all the small talk and Hermione the one who'd sit listening.

"Hermione? Seriously, you're freaking me out," Harry remarked, leaning back in his seat.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I have to go," Hermione said, looking in her purse for a Galleon bill. Harry waved it off, watching her as she stood up and gave him a peck on the cheek, heading outside the café quickly.

~.~.~

In the evening, when Hermione was about to take a hot bubble bath, wearing just a towel around her torso, a loud banging was on her door. She peeked through the peephole. Ginny stood there, looking angry.

She opened the door. "What's the matter?" she asked.

Ginny walked straight inside without waiting for Hermione to invite her in, then turned on her. "_I_ should be asking you this, what's the matter? Harry got home, looking all worried and told me that you went to see him after work. And then you left as quickly as you came." Then, upon looking Hermione up and down, Ginny stormed off to the living room, then disappeared in her bedroom, the guest room, her study room, and then went back, fuming. "Is he here? Are you hiding him?" she screeched.

"What? Who? Harry's not here," Hermione said, amused and confused.

"This is so not funny, Hermione Jean Granger, you know who I'm talking about. Malfoy!" Ginny cried, "It's because of him you're acting like this, right? I didn't tell Harry, but judging from what he's told me, I knew at once what happened."

"Jesus! Will you please quit making a fuss? Nothing's happened; I would've told you, wouldn't I? You and Harry are making a mountain out of a molehill; I'm fine. I was just going to take a bath."

Ginny let out a long-suffering sigh. "Harry said you've been acting strange; and I've to agree that you look too pale and skinny now. So I came over to check on you."

"I'm sorry if I worried you, but I'm really fine," Hermione reassured her, sitting on the couch and crossing her legs. "Anything else?"

"So, you're coming to lunch tomorrow? I already told Mum."

"Yes, I will," Hermione said, forcing out a smile. "Was that all?"

"Yeah." Ginny shrugged, she leaned against the doorframe, saying, "You'd tell me if something's happened, right? If he's trying to mess you up or something?" Hermione just nodded, biting her thumbnail. "And by the way, I've invited Amanda, too."

"You did what?" Hermione almost lost her towel that was covering her naked torso. "Ginny, you didn't! Why would you? You're always embarrassing me in front of her."

"Why are you freaking out? Thought it'd be nice to ask her, but she declined anyway," Ginny said, "she said she's ill."

"Yes, she called in sick today."

"You should check on her. Do you know where she lives?"

"Why the heck should I do that? I'm not her mother."

"Hermione, she's your friend. Aren't you at least a _bit_ concerned about her well-being?" Ginny chided her.

"I think she's old enough to take care of herself, Ginny. I don't know where she lives, anyway. Besides, I don't think she's really ill. We had a sort of little argument yesterday when she came over. So I assume she just doesn't want to see me at the moment."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "An argument? About what?"

Taking a deep breath, Hermione told Ginny about her argument with Amanda, where she might have had hurt Amanda's feelings. Once she finished her story, Ginny seemed slightly irritated and scowled at Hermione.

"Merlin! Is Ron's behaviour wearing off on you or did you become such an insensitive, cold-hearted bitch because of your fucking job?" Ginny barked angrily. "I think you owe her an apology, Hermione!"

"I…_I_ should apologise? She's the one trying to manipulate me—"

"Yeah, whatever, I'll stay out of it," Ginny replied, holding up her hands in a relinquishing manner, "she's your girlfriend, not mine. See you tomorrow."

Ginny spun on her spot and Apparated home before Hermione had the chance to correct her that Amanda wasn't her girlfriend.

~.~.~

Hermione took her bath and got dressed, deciding to Apparate back to her office to get Amanda's address from the staff directory. It wouldn't hurt to check on her while she wasn't feeling well, Hermione thought, so long as it shut Ginny up and soothe her own conscience.

Twenty minutes later, upon wandering the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley and turning into a familiar dark, grungy alleyway, she found herself in the middle of Knockturn Alley.

Hermione wondered for a brief second if she got the right address, readying her wand under her robe as she moved past dodgy wizards, street vendors, goblins, and other creepy-looking creatures. Soon enough she found the building she was looking for, but was surprised upon discovering that Amanda Watson—who appeared rather well-off when she moved around the office in expensive dresses—lived in a dilapidated and decrepit block of flats. As if it wasn't bad enough already that it was located in Knockturn Alley. But then again, who was Hermione to judge?

"This can't be the right address," Hermione murmured to herself, noticing that plywood was covering some of the windows. Next to the building was a small store that sold suspicious looking objects and items, amongst which she identified black candles, shrunken heads, evil-looking masks, and what looked like human bones. Recoiling from the wafting stale odour, she turned to a street vendor that sold rabbit paws and animal skulls, asking the wizard if there was another building with the number 24B.

The wizard was tall, had dark eyelids and black front teeth, and he wore a long, black worn-out robe. As he leaned closer to her, his nostrils flared as though drawing in her scent deeply. He gave a low, guttural moan. Hermione backed away, pulling her wand out and ran inside the building number 24B.

It was worse inside. There was a horribly damp smell, the odour of unwashed bodies wafting through the air, and an annoying drip from the ceiling, while the hallway was lit by lanterns. As she scanned the squalid place she wondered, could Amanda perhaps have given false information? Was she hiding from someone? No young witch in her right mind would choose to live in a place like this. Despite herself, however, Hermione went up the creaky staircase.

_No way Amanda lives here_, Hermione thought again.

When she reached Amanda's presumed flat, she knocked carefully on the door, her wand ready in her hand in case she did confuse the flat and a psychopath leapt at her. Why did she have to come all by herself, and in the evening? Why did she have to listen to Ginny in the first place? Though it was more her own guilt that had driven her to see Amanda tonight.

After another knock, louder this time, the door creaked open. And there was the familiar face, looking pale and having dark circles under her eyes, staring at Hermione in a mixture of shock, surprise, and disbelief.

"Wh-What are you doing here?" Amanda gasped, her mouth hanging open. She wore a big sweater that reached to her thighs and sweat pants, and had a blanket around her shoulders, whilst in one hand she readied her wand. In her shock she slammed the door in Hermione's face shut.

"Oh Cripes! Amanda, please, will you talk to me?" Hermione called self-consciously, feeling as though she was being watched by the other tenants, "I came all the way here and you just slam the door in my face?"

"I didn't ask you to!" came Amanda's muffled response.

From the door across Amanda's flat, a short witch in dark green robes emerged between the door crack. She was scanning Hermione with her eyes before she said something incoherent in a rather shaky voice.

"Yon Mattie's fren?" the old witch said in unfamiliar dialect, "Yon Mattie's fren?" she asked a bit louder when Hermione failed to respond.

Hermione banged again against Amanda's door, keeping her eyes on the old witch.

"Yon Mattie's fren? Mattie?"

Hermione smiled nervously and nodded. "Y-Yeah, A-Amanda. She-She lives here."

"Mattie? Mattie?"

Then finally, Amanda opened the door and pulled her inside, closing it instantly and locking it several times with her wand.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again, her voice raspy. "Didn't you know how dangerous it is here, Miss Granger, and it's already dark outside. And you came all by yourself?"

"You live here!" Hermione stated a bit dumbfounded. She noticed that a sweet, fresh fragrance dissipated the odour that came from the hallways outside; she took a moment to breathe, calming down her nerves that resulted from the nightmare outside.

"Yes, I live here. Great observation, Sherlock," Amanda said sarcastically, then looked over her shoulder to Hermione and smiled wretchedly.

"Well, thank you, my dear _Watson_!" Hermione retorted childishly, stemming her fists in her hips.

Amanda tilted her head to one side, her shoulders sagging. "I'm sorry, Miss…Hermione, I have really not been feeling well all day and my brother just left after staying for two hours, making sure I'm still alive and will survive this. He was getting my hackles up, I swear, that stupid prat." Then she collapsed on her makeshift bed rather ungracefully, coiling up under her woollen blanket.

Hermione moved to sit on the mattress in which Amanda was lying, that seemed to be only seating area in the room. Amanda had her head hidden under the blanket, refusing to make eye-contact with Hermione. She didn't blame her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, tugging at the blanket. "Do you have a fever?"

"Dunno, just feeling a bit dizzy," Amanda said groggily, still refusing to emerge from under the blanket.

"You were all fine yesterday; how come you got sick? Have you been dancing naked in the rain all night, or what?" she asked softly, trying to lighten up the mood. She tugged at the blanket again.

"No, don't look at me. I don't want you to see me like this," Amanda protested, "I look hideous."

"Don't be silly!" said Hermione. "I won't stay long, don't worry. I just came to-to apologize. It's just…you seem to know me well—too well, to be honest—yet I know nothing about you. It's disconcerting; I mean the fact that you know me so well. Amanda?"

Amanda pulled the blanket down, her face now only half-hidden. "Hmm…apology accepted," she mumbled curtly, then hid her face again. Hermione rolled her eyes, emitting a soft chuckle. Then she took in her surrounding with one glance.

It was just a one bedroom flat. The room was the living room and bedroom combined, and was probably the same size as Hermione's own bedroom, with only one small window. The walls were splashed with a dull beige, the wooden flooring covered with a plush carpet. There were posters along the wall. Three of four gas lamps were illuminating from each corner, filling the room with soft light. Aside the wardrobe at the wall, a coffee table at the centre, and another table with dishware and cutlery on it, and a chair piled up with books and folders, the room was rather unfurnished.

After a prolonged silence, Amanda looked up again. "You're probably wondering why I'm living in this craphole," she said bluntly, frowning.

"What?" _How does she…? _Hermione furrowed her eyebrows but refrained from commenting. "N-No, well, okay, maybe," she replied honestly. "Don't get me wrong, but I happen to know your monthly income, Amanda, you can afford a much better place than…_this_." She gulped, hoping she didn't sound rude.

"With all due respect, ma'am, but my plain and shabby living is no concern of yours," said Amanda, her face twisting up in pain, "and if this…is…" she moaned, getting up quickly from her bed, held up a finger, and disappeared in the bathroom. Retching sounds followed, causing Hermione to panic. She followed Amanda into the bathroom.

"Oh my goodness, are you all right?" she shrieked as she stepped behind Amanda, rubbing her back.

Hermione performed a cleansing charm on Amanda and helped her back to her bed, tucking her in.

"You should leave, please go," Amanda sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

"Are you serious? I can't possibly leave you in this condition," Hermione snapped. "You have to see a Healer!"

"No, it's probably just food poisoning or a stomach bug, nothing serious." She coughed in her fist, moaning.

"Don't be stubborn." Hermione shook her head; then an idea struck her. "You know, I have a guestroom at home. And a warm bed. I even have heaters, so it's never cold."

"Nice," Amanda mumbled, "and I have a wardrobe that leads to Narnia. What else you've got?"

Hermione laughed at her sarcasm. "You've read the Chronicles of Narnia? That's my favourite when I was a child. I didn't know you read Muggle books."

"'Course I do, I'm part-Muggle after all, and part-Witch," she answered, "and part-_secretary_."

Hermione bit her bottom lip, feeling miserable at the way she'd treated Amanda. "I told you I was sorry, Miss Watson! Is this your cell phone?"

Amanda didn't even bother to look up or open her eyes when Hermione held the small flat screened device in her hand. "Hmm…" she mumbled, "but you know you can't call a Healer from that, don't you?"

"Jeez, you've even got an iPod," Hermione remarked, disregarding her statement. "Where's your wand?"

"Here," Amanda groaned weakly, noticing that Hermione had just tucked the cell phone, iPod, and wand in her robe pocket. "Hey, what are you doing? Are you robbing me? No, please, I need those."

"I'm not robbing you, silly," said Hermione, pulling Amanda's blanket aside and lying beside her. She held her close to her and brushed her hair from her pale face. "Hold on tight," she said playfully, "I'm going to kidnap you."

Then they Side-Along Apparated back to her flat.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, that's Amanda's _true _way of living. By the way, I have no prejudices against Lawyers, or Psychologists, or Secretaries. Everything I write here is just for the plot.  
**

**Anyway, if, for some reason, you happen to subscribe for an update (most of you certainly have already) because you like it so far, I hope you feel inclined to also leave a short comment/review/response/feedback below. Thanks. c",)**


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